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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048562">So I Can See My Baby When I Leave This World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassGeorgeGlass/pseuds/GlassGeorgeGlass'>GlassGeorgeGlass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Making Right What Once Went Wrong [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Child Abuse, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Do-Over, Domestic Violence, F/M, Guns, Homophobic Language by Bullies, Implied/Reference Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Making Right What Once Went Wrong, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Therapy, all sexual content is consensual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:02:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>211,855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassGeorgeGlass/pseuds/GlassGeorgeGlass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica is a 23 year old graduate intern at a private practice specializing in patients with PTSD and other trauma when she crosses the street and gets hit by a yuppie on a car phone. She awakens at an eerie 7/11 and has a chat with her ex. After a lengthy back and forth Veronica awakes to find herself in her teenage body, with a chance to make right, what once went wrong and decides not to go to Heather's the morning after the party, but stay with JD. Because, "Veronica, you really did have a messed up life..." Are any of them really damaged beyond repair?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heather McNamara &amp; Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara/Original Character(s), Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer, Martha Dunnstock &amp; Veronica Sawyer, Veronica Sawyer &amp; Veronica's Mom &amp; Veronica's Dad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Making Right What Once Went Wrong [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>447</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Teenage Tragedy Songs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi. So, I haven't written fan fiction of any sort in years so I have no idea what the current etiquette is. Obviously I own nothing and want no profit. I also don't really know this fandom so I hope nothing in here offends. I dpn't really understand AO3's tagging system so I did the best I could. Mental health is discussed and I am by no means an expert, so I hope no one takes any offense to it. There's swearing, and mentions of violence... I mean, I can go back and edit warnings if anyone think it warrants it.</p><p>Kudos or review if you would like to.</p><p>There are a ton of songs mentioned/referenced in this but the main lyrics JD and Veronica say to each other come from "Tell Laura I Love Her" and the answer song "Tell Tommy I Miss Him" which have been covered by many people. "Leader of the Pack" and "Last Kiss" are mentioned. (Title is a lyric of Last Kiss.) "Leader of the Pack" is most famous by the Shang-Ri-Las and "Last Kiss" is an old song but Pearl Jam did a popular cover in the 90s.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica finds herself in a 7/11</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She woke up dazed. Behind her was a long stretch of highway into the unknown, ahead of her? Well, the neon lights and sign were about as familiar to her as any other American. </p><p>She tried to think, tried to remember. There was… an accident. A car. Headlights…</p><p>Screechin’ tires, the busted glass, the painful scream that I heard last...</p><p>She had been crossing the street to Dr. Becket’s practice, the one she was interning at. He worked with PTSD. A lot of Vietnam vets… She liked the work and liked helping damaged people get better. Dr. Becket told her, “no one was damaged beyond repair.” She smiled at that, she thought that too.</p><p>She graduated Westerberg in the spring of 1990 and promptly moved to Cincinnati and never looked back. First it was college, now it was grad school. She kept to herself mostly. It had only been five years and she took the advice someone once gave her in a 7/11 before buying her a Slurpee: she built some walls. Veronica built Fort Knox around her heart and soul and she let no one else invade it. Which was fine. Work was work and the work was good. She’d work on her mental health later. For now...</p><p>Well, it was a moot point anyway. A car had hit her… Veronica was crossing the street, she looked both ways and some yuppie on his hulking early 90s cell phone…</p><p>...hit her.</p><p>Oh, yeah. She got hit by a car. Rather random, really.</p><p>Now she was in the middle of nowhere, looking ahead of her. It was a 7/11, in all its 1980s ubiquitous glory. Perplexed, she walked inside. Well, there it was: a 7/11 like any other. What did she expect? It had the same color scheme, flooring, the aisles, old music faintly in the back,  the borderline frightening cheap food advertisements… like something out of a corporate sponsored wet dream. Hail to the corporate American dollar, she thought. Hail to McDonalds, Burger King, ESprit, The Gap. 1989 in a nutshell. Everything was perfectly stocked and ready to go. The hum of the Slurpee and Big Gulp machines buzzed in her ears and as she opened the door. She heard the <em> ding dong </em> electronic beep that accompanied a customer inside. All the place needed was a brain dead minimum wage slave barely caring as teenagers shoplifted, his ears stuffed in foam earphones with a metal ring around them. </p><p>What the hell was going on? Where was she? The last thing she remembered was the headlights from the oncoming car… She wasn’t? No, no. This was a dream. A coma induced dream. Any second she’d wake up in a hospital bed, groaning about how it was one more bill she couldn’t afford. </p><p>The thing was, the store wasn’t empty. There was one solitary customer as the Slurpee machine.</p><p>“So..” he said to her. “Can I get you a cherry or lime?” The young man asked, his trench coat and soft brown hair all she could see from behind.</p><p>Her heart stopped. Jason Dean asked her that question. JD, with a ring of cocky amusement in his tone. Jason Dean. JD. It couldn’t… No!  He turned and gave her a crooked smile and she stopped dead in her tracks. That is, if she wasn’t already, <em> was she </em>? Millions of emotions rushed through her head. Fear, despair, panic… joy? No, don’t feel...</p><p>“You're dead,” she whispered incredulously, her heart in her throat.<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”</p><p>“You took the bomb from me, went to the football field and blew yourself up.”<br/>
<br/>
“Again, I know. I was there too.”</p><p>A tear slid down her cheek as she remembered the last thing he said to her, “Our love is god.” He then smiled, waved… and blew himself to smithereens all over the football field-- leaving her an absolute mess. </p><p>She dreamt it so many times she dreaded sleep a lot. The explosion, the pitying stares in the wake of it all, the guilt… oh god the nights of endless guilt. Guilt over Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Guilt over JD. Hate over JD for making her feel guilt. Hate over herself for feeling hate when he was just as damaged as the rest. The image of him, in all his messy and psychotic seventeen year old broken self glory… terrifying her in her room screaming her name… trading his life for hers because he couldn’t live with his actions…</p><p>They were fucking kids for god’s sake. Kids. She still couldn’t wrap her brain around the notion of what happened to them-- what they did-- at such a tender age.</p><p>Where the hell was she? This couldn’t be real.</p><p>He looked just like he did when he was seventeen: long trench coat, messy brown hair, deep brown eyes… and that crooked smile. The same one that had her dropping her panties the instant they met and willing to follow him into the depths of hell just to be in his arms. Which is precisely what he did-- lead her to hell.</p><p>It made sense he still looked that way. Jason Dean died at seventeen-- he died young and left a pretty corpse. Like Joplin or Cobain-- except they got to see twenty-seven. What’s the saying?  It was better to burn out, than to fade away. They’d never know what he would look like as an old man.</p><p>She made it back from hell though, sort of. She moved on. She was 23 years old-- went into a graduate degree program in psychology… god, looking at his eyes, his crooked smile... she was 17 years old again in the cafeteria impressed with his brains, brawn, cockiness, and devastatingly handsome looks.</p><p>What the hell is your damage, Veronica?</p><p>“Am I dead?” She asked, finally.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugged. </p><p>“Is this real?”</p><p>He shrugged again. “It’s as real as anything else I suppose.”<br/>
<br/>
“If I’m dead…” she started trying to get used to the idea just in case. “This can’t be the, um, good place. I mean for many reasons this couldn’t be…” She glanced at the 7/11 and the aisles and the gross junk products any convenience store pedals in. And him.</p><p>“It’s not. It’s definitely not. Trust me, I know I didn’t get into the good place.”</p><p>“So then… Is it… um, well,” she got nervous, “the bad one?”<br/>
<br/>
“Veronica, it’s a 7/11,” he said with a laugh. “That’s all I know.”</p><p>“I don’t know what that means.”<br/>
<br/>
“It means… it’s always open, always the same. It’s as ubiquitous on the landscape as the purple mountains majesty of the great ol’ US of A are. So, the question still stands. Cherry or lime?”<br/>
<br/>
“So, it’s bullshit ambiguous answer place then?” He chuckled.</p><p>“I missed you,” he said meaning it, then instantly regretted telling her that.</p><p>“Don’t. Don’t do that.” Years of trying to get the image of him smiling and waving at her out of her head. Years of trying not to remember what it was like to have someone she was crazy about point a gun at her. Years of trying to forget how twisted he made the phrase, “meant to be yours.” Years of seeing Heather, Kurt, and Ram’s pretty teen corpses in her mind… It was like she was back in the moments of all of them.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry.” He turned his back on her to the Slurpee machine. The ice spinning in its plastic container waiting to slide into one of the plastic cups with the dome lid.</p><p>She sighed. “Cherry,” she answered. He went to the machine and poured one out for her, carefully swirling the cup around to get the maximum amount of slush in the cup before he refilled his own. Wordlessly he handed it to her. Leaning against the counter, they both sipped on their slush. She didn’t know what to expect but it… tasted like a Slurpee. The same as it had tasted when she was a teenager. It was cold chemical sugar water with red dye number 8.</p><p>It was as American as a Big Mac, Coca-Cola, and blue jeans… It was 1989 in a non-biodegradable cup that would still be breaking down in 2020.</p><p>Not knowing where she was, why she was there, or how long she would be-- oh god, for eternity?-- she bit the bullet and decided to ask JD the question she had longed for the last five years to ask him. When else would she?</p><p>“I only have one question for you. Do you regret anything?”</p><p>“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you-- did you-- I mean... Regrets. Do you regret anything you did when you were alive?”<br/>
<br/>
He stared at the floor. He released a long sigh. “Of course I do. I’ve clearly… had time to think. How long has it been? Since I…?”</p><p>“Five years,” she whispered. </p><p>“Oh, just five?” His eyes bulged and she nodded. “It may as well be five minutes or five decades. Time… it’s kind of meaningless here. Just like any other 7/11, right?” She didn’t laugh at the joke. “Anyway, I remember after you shot me… things, well, things suddenly-- it was like that bullet parted the fog and I-- I couldn’t remember why, why it was so important to set that bomb off, the justification that had made it so clear in my head only minutes before was just… gone. That clarity I had earlier was like... worse than any pharmaceutical a kid could take. It made everything seem so plain and simple. Insanity doesn’t make you think you’re going crazy Veronica,” he whispered the last part, his eyes turning away and his hand in his hair, “it makes you think that you’re the only sane one.” He closed his eyes and opened them, turning to her. “All I had left was the guilt over what I had done and all I saw was you walking out with that bomb in your arms to your death. You, beautiful Veronica Sawyer, who’s small lock of hair always needed to be brushed behind your ear. Veronica Sawyer who was determined to leave the world a better place than she found it like the most vigilant camper ever. Veronica Sawyer, who was too god damn good for my sorry ass self but saw fit to worm into my heart anyway. I was dead, you know, deserved it wholeheartedly but you-- the only thing clear in my last few minutes was knowing you were not going down with me.”</p><p>“I’ll trade my life for yours…” she whispered, remembering. It was always a romantic fantasy of hers for a boy to want to do that for her. To love her that much, that he’d sacrifice his life for hers. That she’d do the same for him… like in the songs and the movies... but the actuality of it was a hell of a lot more complicated, frightening, and messy, like 99.9% of most life. “I didn’t ask you to do it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. Did it anyway. I regret most of what I did, not just because, well, it killed me or ripped away any reasonably well-adjusted life I may have eventually had but... Things now are clearer. The morality of it. You were right, always right-- Heather Chandler’s was a terrible person, Kurt and Ram were dicks but… we really could have just ignored them, let them be. Why the hell I let all that crap get to me I don’t know. All I had to do was stick it out with them for the rest of the year…” He kicked the floor and put his slush down with the straw. He turned to her and spoke, and she realized that wherever this place was-- good, bad, some sort of after-life neither of them could imagine-- it at least allowed JD to be himself, the real one, the sane one that didn’t have the cloud of any mental gremlins clawing at his brain. He was the JD that made her laugh, put his arms around her and made her feel special, the one… the mentally healthy one he deserved to be. The one that saw right from wrong and understood his actions. <em> Oh my god </em> , she thought, <em> this may not be the bad place in any sense of fire and brimstone but… for JD… An empty 7/11 full of just his own clear, sane thoughts and memories of his very real mistakes… </em></p><p>She admired the economy of it, really. The graceful simplicity of the great unknown.</p><p>“Teenagers are morons, aren’t they?” He mused. “Think it’ll never end even when it’s months away. High school is literally only four years. Four measly years in a life that could be 80. How many people in their 30’s even properly remember all of high school? Think it defines them?” He reflected. “Most of all, I regret hurting you.” She got nervous again. Apologies. He was apologizing. Was it enough?</p><p>No. It probably never will be.</p><p>“That doesn’t make it better,” she said, some of her bitterness seeping out. She had spent too many long nights living with the very real guilt of her actions, the very real trauma that her high school experience did leave on her.</p><p>“It doesn’t. Oh my god, it does not even remotely. At the end of the day no one’s to blame but me. I mean, we can blame my mother for killing herself and leaving me behind-- lord knows where she is right now-- blame my dad for being toxic and abusive but why stop there? Hey, let’s blame social services and the schools for never stepping in and seeing that incredibly unhealthy environment for raising a child simply because I was white and middle class.” He started pacing back and forth, his hand scraping through his hair, making it spike up-- his slush in the other. “Let’s keep going though! We can blame the government for allowing a fucked up kid like me irresponsibly-- and 100% legal-- easy access to guns and explosives!” He started waving his arms around, slush falling from his cup. “Hell, while we’re at it let's call out society as a whole for creating the toxic culture of sexism, classicism, toxic masculinity, and homophobia that high school bullshit bullying is personified with!” He laughed almost maniacally, causing her to shirk a little. “Let’s blame the cultural shift! Hey, them hippy boomers promised us a revolution but they delivered more of the same! Little boxes in row, the sequel! Let’s blame the government’s cover up of the atrocities of Vietnam! Nixon and Watergate while we’re at it! Regan for de-funding the Great Society programs! Violence on TV! The movies! Nintendo!” He stopped and calmed down. He pulled back and leaned against the counter, grabbing his cup for another sip. </p><p>He was quiet now. “But… those are explanations Veronica, they’re not excuses. A lot that is true. Some of it bullshit-- I mean, Nintendo and TV are cool, the rest… yes-- but… at the end of the day for every fucked up kid like me, there’s one that’s had it worse and rose above it. There’s always an example of one that seeks out their own help to fix their problems and can move on to mental health and above their problems to a good life. I had choices and I chose the wrong path regardless of the shitty hand I was dealt. I had a chance at happiness and I chose to self-destruct and take others down with me. I accept that. I did that. I… take full responsibility for my actions even though it does me no good now.” He went to the slushie machine with both their plastic cups and refilled them. The random environmentalist in her was glad he re-used instead of grabbing fresh ones.<br/>
<br/>
They were both quiet after that long speech, the only sound the slurping of the cups. She wondered why she let him get all of that out. Did he deserve to tell her all of that? Didn’t she have the absolute right to tell him to fuck his speeches and sudden mental clarity? She did. </p><p>But she didn’t. He wasn’t… wrong and she respected his revelation. Granted, it was far far far too late but... </p><p>“God, I spent a lot of time hating you,” she whispered, then turned to him, “I acknowledge the poison our relationship turned into. I wished we’d never met. I wished that you’d started senior year at literally any other high school but… there was good in you,” she said quietly, realizing that at the end of the day that was all that mattered as far as JD was concerned since he was dead. Dead, as in… what she might- she shook her head. “Maybe… maybe in death there is clarity beyond the basic hero and villain narrative. Life’s hard. Just do it. Shit happens. Fuck, I don’t know. Getting out of your teen years means losing all sense of certainty and knowledge of the right thing. I used to think I was this genius, you know? And, hey, maybe I am. But do you know the worst part of being smart is?” He shook his head. He was a brilliant seventeen year old that killed others and himself after all. “It’s knowing all the shit you don’t know. Dumb people think they know everything, smart people know they don’t know shit.” She turned to him. “I did see the good side of you for a little bit behind all that hurt.” She sighed and laid it on him. “I had to learn the hard way that John Lennon was wrong, love isn’t all you need. Sometimes we need something more than that, something I wasn’t equipped to give you at seventeen.”</p><p>“It was never your job to save me. It was my job to save me and I fucked it up.”</p><p>“You did.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>She stared at the melted cherry ice in her cup. She took a contemplative sip. “I did love you though, if that matters anymore.” </p><p>“You did?” He smiled forlornly. “It does. I will always love that about you-- you saw something in me, in others that no one else did. I loved you too, for you. I loved this smart, nerdy, warm-hearted girl who flirted with the wrong side but ultimately was a good person.” he closed his eyes, remembering the feelings and sighed. “Veronica, you were the sun and I wanted to just orbit you. I loved you so much I didn’t know how to handle it in a healthy manner. I went from love to obsession to anger so quickly I couldn’t even tell you what I was doing as I was doing it.” he stared down. “Why?” he whispered, more serious than I’d ever seen him in life. “That’s what I’ve spent the entire time I’ve been… here, doing. Because mommy left me, I couldn’t stand the idea of another beautiful woman waving goodbye to me? I had to wave goodbye to her out of spite? I kept wondering why in the world I would spend my whole adolescent and teen life wishing to love and be loved in return only to self-destruct it when I got it. You’re right, maybe I was wrong, maybe this is the bad place. I always thought Sartre was the right one, ‘hell is other people.’ Maybe for me my own head is the best hell any complex entity in charge can come up with.” She crossed her legs and stared at him. Jason Dean. </p><p>Jason Dean, the mistake, the beautiful love. Both at the same time. Jason Dean, like Heather, Kurt, Ram, and her all deserved to grow up and get out of Westerberg-- alive, sane, and ready to take on the world.</p><p>She sighed and recited, “the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..” He looked at her funny, “John Milton. Read it in college. Reminded me of you at the time. Now I know why.”<br/>
<br/>
“Never got to Milton. On the ‘to be read’ pile I left behind.”</p><p>“True hell,” she laughed, trying to make levity, her heart done with the blow out. “An endless pile of books that one can never get to staring you in the face.” He burst into laughter.</p><p>“Hey, we had our first date here.”</p><p>“We did. Yes… how does the song go? I met him at the candy store. He turned around and smiled at me, you get the picture…”</p><p>“That’s why you fell for the leader of the pack. Vroom. Vroom.” They both laughed as he made motions with his hands as if he was revving up a motorcycle.</p><p>Hours, years, seconds-- he was right, time didn’t matter here-- passed and they found themselves lying on the linoleum floor of the convenience stores staring in each other’s eyes. She was so damaged from her time with him, knowledgeable of his flaws and the things he did to her but… this was the man she always wanted and whether this was real or not, good place or bad place, what the hell did it matter if it was healthy or not? Especially when he was playing with the lock of hair on her forehead. He’d watch as it escaped behind her ear and he gently tuck it away again like Sisyphus pushing a rock up a hill.</p><p>The music had suddenly begun to play through the speakers. It was otherworldly and faint but they could make out the tune.</p><p>“Now in the chapel where Laura prays, for her Tommy who passed away, it was just for Laura he lived and died, alone in the chapel she can hear him cry,” he spoke the lyrics to the long ago song to her almost whispering.<br/>
<br/>
“Although he wanted to give me the world, why did he do such a reckless thing? Little star he should have realized I was richer than a queen when he looked into my eyes,” she responded. “I always loved those old teenage tragedy songs my mom played until I lived one.” He snorted in response.</p><p>She carefully traced the lines of his young face. He had no right to die at seventeen. None of them did, like she had no right at 23, if that was in fact what happened. She still hadn’t decided.. “Do you ever re-play the events in your mind?” she asked him.</p><p>“All the time, not much else to do. The newspapers and magazines are all from 1989 and never change. Only so many Cosmo articles on how to make your breasts perky and using honey for sexual pleasure a man can read.” She laughed.</p><p>“I think about the turning points. I think about telling Heather I don’t want to go to the party and chose to stay with you at the 7/11. I sometimes even think about how I should have ignored you when you spoke to me in the halls,” he darted his eyes away, knowing that that is probably the best answer for her. “But it’s not. Neither of those are. I don’t regret you, even though I should, I don’t regret the night I went to you and if that party was the circumstance to get there....”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you regret then Veronica?” </p><p>She told him.</p><p>He just smiled, and the blinding light took over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. What's the Rush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica wakes up in an old friend's bed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That morning, Veronica Sawyer awoke with a scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica! Veronica! Are you okay? You’re soaking wet.” Blinking and terrified she looked at her hands, so small, so smooth... the scars. The scars she got fighting JD in the basement. Where were they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her head and her heart nearly stopped beating right then and there. JD. He was shirtless and in bed with her. His bed. His room. In Ohio. Alive. He was staring at her with concern. Where the hell…? She reached out tentatively to his face. The 7/11 a moment ago but… but that wasn’t this boy. Only weeks younger but… He didn’t have the weight of three deaths, the regret of scarring the girl he loved, or the life he threw away. This boy… well, this boy had the crumpled hair and flushed cheeks of… A boy who had just had the most erotic night of his teenage life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, um, were-- what day is it?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Saturday,” he asked perplexed. “The 22nd I think. Are you all right, why were you screaming?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Um, the year… the year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hangover that bad, huh?” He laughed as he started to part her hair from her shoulder and delicately planted a kiss to her shoulder. Despite her confusion Veronica’s insides went ablaze. “I mean, you were pretty sobered up when you climbed in my window but..” He teased, then tensed at her serious face and stopped kissing her neck. “‘89. Seriously, what’s the matter?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The morning after the party. The morning after she puked on Heather C’s shoes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lick it up baby. Lick. It. Up. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was the most unapologetic thing she had ever had the guts to say in her life. It was the morning after JD and her… well, she broke into his room and insisted on having a sexual encounter-- not that he seemed upset over it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That works for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he muttered in the most blissful sexual way Veronica had ever heard in her extremely limited sexual history. The night of her life she was the most uninhibited, the most… </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How did she get here. Wait, yes. An accident… She had died? Maybe? A 7/11 in another world… JD telling her his regrets. Her telling him how much she… what? What had she said to him in response?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The JD of this time, the one who was more interested in kissing and touching the pretty girl half-naked in his bed, moved his body closer to hers and decided to nibble delicately on the skin on her neck. Wozers. She hadn’t felt this intoxicated on lust since… well, since she was originally with JD at seventeen. Her hormones were in a frenzy. She may have had the foggy memories of a 23 year old… but she had the sexual wants and desires of a 17 year old and his fingers on her bare skin were like 1.21 gigawatts pulsating through every vein. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a script thought… what did the script say she had said? She knew what happened next. “I have to go.” She exited his arms and allowed the warmth of his body to leave her. Confused, he tried to cover up his own hurt as he asked perplexed, “What’s the rush?” He had really been hoping to spend more time with her. A lot more time. She had decided to hunt for her discarded clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heather’s. I have to go to Heather’s and apologize for last night.” She had puked on her shoes, she was dead socially. That was… important? She had to make sure all of that was not true.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I thought you said you were through with Heather?” His tone was dark. She stopped buttoning her blouse and turned to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s right. Cold dread thrummed through her body. This was also the morning she accidentally gave Drain-O to her best friend slash worst enemy. This was the morning the deaths started, the suicide cover-ups, the morning the real morally depraved badness of both of them infected their young hearts and poisoned them both until the body count reached four...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment, she realized, this was the moment it changed. The moment he realized it was the Heathers keeping them apart-- eventually blaming all the Heathers of the world. The idea that he could effect change through murder. It wasn’t to blame. It wasn’t “the reason” or even “the explanation” but… it was the biggest woulda coulda shoulda of her life. It could buy her time at least, and save some lives-- including his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is what she told JD in the surreal other-worldly 7/11 as it faded to white.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I regret going to Heather Chandler’s house that morning after we hooked up. I regret setting all of it into motion. The ‘suicides,’ the vengeance, the cycle of violence that ended with your bomb. That morning we should have been a couple of kids discovering we were in love. I want to go back to that moment.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at the boy with his hand threading through his hair and his eyes downcast in disappointment. She could change things. Now, before it got out of hand. She wasn’t bound to a script. She didn’t have to make the same decisions over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I did say that, didn’t I?” He looked up at her quizzically and she moved back towards him on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? What? You're going to go kiss her ass to get back in with the good queen’s graces?” He was only barely hiding his disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the alternative?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The alternative? Like, say I don’t. Say I don’t rush out of here, worrying about what some insignificant queen bee has to say about me Monday morning. Say we spend this Saturday together. What then?” The question had burned her nightly, long after the events of these months. For five whole years. The hamster wheel was clearly turning in her brain. She had focused on this turning point often in her darkest hour and if fate, god, the universe, time, what-the-hell-ever had given her a chance to find out she was going to take it. Who else was ever given such a chance?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was remembering all too clearly everything that had happened that day and before in 1989 now, more sharply that she had with the dulling of the years. She could still recall being 23, the accident, the other worldly 7/11… but she felt more like her 17 year old self than her walled up and lonely 23 one. The one who believed people could change, the one who was going to fix it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes changed, the darkness suddenly replaced with quizzical fascination as a grin tugged at his lips. Veronica Sawyer had the ability to get more interesting by the conversation to him. She had walked back up to him as his long legs dangled over the bed. “Well, I was thinking-- I could buy you breakfast,” he said brushing the stubborn tug of shorter hair at her temple behind her ear delicately, “to start with.” He smiled. She moved even closer and straddled his lap. His arms automatically went around her and she felt that same feeling of warmth and safety she always did, even knowing what he could be capable of. He hadn’t done those things yet. Capable, but not culpable.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Breakfast? Breakfast would be nice. At Dennys?” She leaned in and breathily kissed him.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Denny’s? I don’t know, that means you’ll ask for diamonds and rubies next.” She giggled as he slipped her blouse back off. “Sure. Dennys. I too enjoy pointing at pictures in a menu to indicate what I would like instead of speaking it.” Humor, that’s right, his sarcasm always made her laugh and she did, both at the joke and the idea that she could change things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We’ll deal with the larger issues later, she realized. For now… she leaned in and kissed him so deeply it nearly broke both of them. She released him and he stared at her with an expression of dazed joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell did you come from?” He whispered, probably unaware he said that out loud as he allowed her to push him back onto the bed. He inched backwards as she climbed on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later would come the hard part. Later she’d have to figure out a way to get him out from under his father’s toxicity and out of that house. She'd figure a way to get him away from guns and explosives, the idea of killing to solve the problems. The Anarchist Cookbook. Yes, she’ll definitely be throwing out his copy. Afterwards, see if she could get him to talk to a therapist about what happened to his mom, figure out if there was a chance still, convince him that mental health was what he deserved. She would let him have a chance at a normal life. It didn’t have to be too late. It didn’t have to be too late for any of them. Maybe even, for them to have a slice of life, together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He may already think life is a war, but for her life was war too. The war to make sure people didn’t give in to their demons and self-destructive habits. She knew it wasn’t her job, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try anyway. She’d be smarter this time, armed with the knowledge of foresight. Last time she did think it was true: love was all you need. This time she understood that it wasn’t, it was only a part of what everyone needed. She also knew now what it truly meant to fight for someone. No, you couldn’t fight all their battles, but you could stand in their corner and make sure they were going the right direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was going to try, dammit. She was going to use what little bit of foresight she could remember in her increasingly fuddy brain to make sure everyone came out of this slightly less damaged, and a hell of a lot more alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later though, she thought. Right now he was fiddling with her bra clasp. Later, she repeated to herself. Right now she was lowering herself back down on him and slowly bringing both of them to a heart pounding climax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later all of that would go into motion. For now she closed her eyes and embraced the warmth of his arms. She reveled in how he felt and in the way he muttered, “you’re so beautiful.”. After all, she was seventeen years old, a recently devirginized woman, and she was going to get breakfast at Denny’s with her boyfriend. She was going to awkwardly flirt and play footsie with him over what they had just done the night before much to the shock and awe of both of them-- maybe even embarrass the elderly waitress with the revelation. He’d tease and push her buttons and she’d blush and get embarrassed. He’d laugh and flash her that crooked sly smile of his... get lost in his brown eyes. She was desperate to see his face smirk up in a strange mix of warmth and male smugness over the revelation that he was her first, giggle about how he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, and laugh at every sarcastic observation they could make at a Saturday morning Denny’s crowd and staff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d be normal for one day. At the very least one more day. She had no idea if this cockamamie plan was going to work or how’d she come out of it with everyone’s sanity and lives saved... but trying? That was all Veronica Sawyer could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could start and finish any war.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Denny's Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica and JD go to Saturday breakfast at Denny's. They also eat Chinese food.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was pushing ten before Veronica and JD finally parted from the bed. “Why don’t you, uh, take a shower or something? Use what you want in there,” he pointed down the hall to the bathroom.</p><p>A sudden thought struck her and she bit her lip in embarrassment and dread. “Oh god, your, like, Dad isn’t going to see me and--” He shook his head and batted her concerns away.</p><p>“He’s not home, he’s in Chicago all weekend... I think.” He shrugged. “Didn’t really ask. Didn’t really care so long as the house was empty,” the faintest dark look crossed his eyes. His dad. “So, uh, don’t worry,” his tone changed on a dime to charming and sexy JD. Yes, she remembered that. The way he could change like that. “Your performance last night was just for me.” She gave him the satisfaction of looking properly flummoxed. Amazing, she thought. That smile, that sparkle in his eye-- that was it. That was what she was fighting to keep.</p><p>He leaned forward and kissed her, intending just a light peck. He was caught unaware though when she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in deeper. He whimpered a bit in shock but then took her by the waist and pulled her in, clearly enjoying what the polite peck had turned into. He let go and smirked. “I am so glad you climbed into my room last night.”<br/>
<br/>
Veronica sighed and touched his cheek briefly before stooping down to collect her discarded purse from the night before with all the remnants of hair and beauty products only a seventeen year old girl could deem necessary to always have on hand. “Me too.” She paused. “Oh, by the way,” her lips curled into a smile as she relished telling him again, “you were my first.” She sped past him only turning back momentarily to see the smug smile spread across his face.</p><p>She pinned her hair back with a butterfly clip she found in her purse and showered using the soap in the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her body and she was in the process of dry shampooing her hair when the fifty million dollar question hit her:</p><p>
  <em> So, what are you going to do? </em>
</p><p>“Simple,” she thought. “I’m going to have breakfast with my boyfriend. He’s taking me to Denny’s.” </p><p>
  <em> And that, what, magically cured all of his past trauma from his mother? Trauma from an emotionally and physically abusive dad? Any number of head issues that all combined into that ball that… that led us to the basement? </em>
</p><p>The counter-voice, well, countered with. She knew who that voice was. JD’s-- the one she had talked to in the other-world. The one that had put a Norwegian in the boiler room. “No,” she whispered fiercely back to the voice. “I know that but… look, I woke you up that night we slept together. That day we met. That was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. I still think there is good in you, with the right set of circumstances… the right amount of support. I wasn’t equipped at 17 to understand what you needed, stupidly thought that us being in love would be all we needed, but now I know different. I can fix this. I can change it,” she thought tugging her hair de-greasing it with the dry shampoo.</p><p>
  <em> You’re going to get me, what? A shrink? Magic therapy to the rescue? Get me on some Prozac and we’ll get on the back of a motorcycle and fly away into the sunset? </em>
</p><p>“Maybe! Yeah! What the hell is so wrong with that? Therapy and drugs aren’t bad things. Besides, I have to try. I can’t believe in a world where no one isn’t worth saving. What’s the worst that could happen?” She’d seen the worst. JD and her fighting with a gun. The gun went off. Kaboom. Four teenagers dead. That was the worst. No matter what happened going forward it was bound to be better. </p><p>Selfishly too, she wanted to enjoy her morning with JD, the morning after she never got because they walked into Heather’s bedroom with Drain-O.</p><p>When she had finished doing her hair, JD and Veronica exchanged places in the bathroom so he could shower. She flushed at the look on his face when he saw her walk out wrapped in a towel. He leaned in for a kiss and she took it. She smelled like his soap, he thought, wondering why that was turning him on so much. </p><p>She picked up her discarded clothes from the night before and wished she had her overnight bag that she had left at Heather M’s before they left for the party. Fresh underwear and clothes would be heaven right now, but she settled for spritzing a smidge of CK in strategic positions to keep her from that “not so fresh” feeling. Luckily she had a stick of Secret deodorant in her purse. She opened her compact and was about to start her makeup regiment when she realized… why? Did she like wearing all that stuff Heather told her made her look amazing? <em>Well, </em> <em> Some of it, </em> she thought as she grabbed the gloss and applied a coat, <em>but not all of it</em>. She also threw on a bit of face powder to keep her cheeks and forehead from looking red and shiny. Other than that? She put it away. She looked at the girl in the compact mirror. It wasn’t bad.</p><p>She used the opportunity to snoop at the piles of books in his room. Some comics with dark covers, definitely not kids books… Philosophy... poetry... fiction... Ginsberg…. Vonnegut… Shirley Jackson… she smiled remembering how smart he was. The only other kid besides her at Westerberg that read things not assigned in class.</p><p>He came back and caught her flipping through a single issue comic called Sandman. “Ever read it?” He asked curiously, slightly excited. “It’s new, got the issues in Boston when we were there in summer.” She shook her head. </p><p>“I never really got comics,” she shrugged. He looked a bit disappointed. “Come on JD, this is Ohio. If a girl walked into a comic book store here she’d be laughed out.” He agreed.</p><p>“That’s stupid. It’s true enough, but stupid. You should read it though, it’s cool.” She loved seeing him excited about something. “It’s all about these eternal beings, personifications of these big ideas.The main guy’s Dream, like, the concept of Dream but he has emotions and he falls in love and has to go on this quest to get his totems back after being held prisoner for years. It’s hard to explain, but it’s surreal and smart. You’d like it.” She smiled and took it from him.<br/>
<br/>
“Okay. I will. I saw your Shirley Jackson’s. Ever read <em> We Have Always Lived in the Castle </em>? That’s my favorite.”</p><p>His face looked surprised and impressed. “No.”</p><p>“You’d like it. About these two batty sisters who live in the crumbling family mansion with their aging uncle. It takes place following the mysterious murder of their parents that the townsfolk blame on the older sister. The locals are after their blood because of it. It’s weird but cool. You can borrow my copy.” He smiled, he liked how she described books with voices and hand motions to indicate their mood.</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>He reached into his drawer to pull out fresh clothes. She kind of wanted to take a peek, curiously wondering if it was just an endless stack of dark shirts, flannels, and dark pants but thought that’d be snooping. “Let’s go,” he said after he dressed. He grabbed his trench and put it on.</p><p>He took her by the hand and led her downstairs. Briefly, she looked around remembering. The house looked as it had before and it tugged at her heart-- furniture so plain it had clearly come with the rental and a bunch of boxes and suitcases littered the living room, barely unpacked. The TV, VCR, and turntable radio were the only things that clearly belonged to the family renting the house. No plants, no pictures, no personal touches of family. He caught her looking. “Sorry, I can give you a full tour if you’d like.” He reached for the door knob and opened it. “This is the door, I know you’re not familiar with it but we usually enter and exit through it.”</p><p>“Shut up and feed me already,” she said as they headed out to his car. </p><p>Denny’s on a Saturday morning was a lot like that fucked up cantina in Star Wars: you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy anywhere else in the galaxy and they did not serve droids.</p><p>She turned to him as they seated themselves in a booth next to the window. JD fiddled with all the plastic advertisements for specialty drinks and limited time meals that littered and crowded the table. “Why do they try so hard to get people to buy new things? Americans are pretty easy to feed. Burgers, fries, sandwiches, we’re a simple lot… I mean, who goes to Denny’s for a sirloin steak?” He held up the one advertisement for a limited time special on a steak priced far too low to believe quality was assured but too high for the average customer of Denny’s to justify. She smiled at his musings.</p><p>“Do you ever play the Denny’s game?” She asked.</p><p>“Are you talking about the word search on the back of the kid’s place-mat? If so I’ll tell you, not as easy as it looks.” He flipped it over to look at it, about to grab the complimentary crayon.<br/>
<br/>
“No! Ha. No, the Denny’s Game. Okay, so, what you do is you pick a table-- any table-- and you… write their whole story in your head just from what you can see.” </p><p>“You’ve created a whole game out of making snap judgments about people?” He asked wryly.</p><p>“Uhuh, it’s fun!” She snapped back, batting away his cynicism. She slipped her feet out of her heels. Ugh, she hated wearing heels for an extended period of time. All her weeks with the Heather’s never got her feet used to them. She missed her Keds, but she did admit they made her butt look fantastic. "So, like,” she scanned the restaurant and settled on a pre-teen boy and father eating pancakes and not talking. She leaned over and slyly pointed at them. “Total divorced dad on his every other weekend and two weeks in the summer visitation.” Gently and carefully she took her blue stocking-ed foot and playfully touched it to JD’s leg making sure not to make any mention of what her foot was doing with her face. The smallest smile crept up his face as he lightly leaned his leg against her foot. She continued with her story. “They haven’t spoken two words to each other since mom dropped him off after school Friday.” JD put his elbow on the table and leaned his head in, hanging off her words. “See Dad left Mom for the secretary but now the secretary got bored and left him for someone her own age who’s got a motorcycle. Or a beemer. Could go either way, you know these career girls.” Her foot continued to play with his leg. “Now he’s left with an awkward relationship with his son and a boatload of clothes that are too young for a man his age to respectfully wear. The only thing poor Timmy-”</p><p>“Timmy?” JD interrupted.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the boy’s name,” she made a face to indicate that it was obvious.</p><p>“You’re right, obviously. Continue.” </p><p>“Poor Timmy’s only solace is that his dad’s gesture of goodwill is chocolate chip pancakes at Denny’s Saturday morning and that he’ll buy him a Nintendo out of guilt for Christmas. Mom would never let him eat chocolate chip pancakes at home and she said no to the video game system.” She finished.</p><p>He smiled at her, as he tried very hard not to betray how much he enjoyed what her foot was doing to his leg as it delicately played with the hem of his pants. “And how did you infer that?”</p><p>“Look at the kid’s backpack. It’s Saturday morning and it’s clearly holding weekend stuff, like he’s ready to book it back to mom’s any second. And that shirt Dad’s wearing. Only a 24 year old lover would buy an IZod that color for a middle aged man.” She hit the table excited. “Your turn.” He was mesmerized. He spent a lot of his life quiet and observing, mostly observing how no matter where he went everyone was basically the same. Veronica Sawyer may have spent her whole life in Sherwood, Ohio but she too could observe people like he could. It was different though, she could see the drama, create something, build on it--</p><p>Also, what she was doing with her foot was driving him nuts and he was trying desperately not to let her know it. </p><p>“Okay… um.” He drummed his fingers on the table and looked around the diner. He pointed at a couple in their 20s a few booths down from them. “Those two, right there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, what’s their deal?” She stared at him, eagerly waiting.</p><p>“They fucked last night and are having morning after breakfast,” he said matter-of-factly.<br/>
<br/>
“Seriously? Why would you think that?” She said as she sputtered the sip of Diet Coke she had taken.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s got the same flush on her cheeks you do and he’s wearing the same smirk I must be.” She dissolved into laughter now.</p><p>“And that dress… that’s a dress that says ‘I didn’t go home last night.’” Veronica joked along with him.</p><p>“That’s just how your outfit looks.” Her eyes widened and she ended her foot seduction with a kick to him underneath the table. He laughed and flinched in pain, mostly upset she had stopped her foot seduction with the arrival of a woman pushing 90 with a name tag saying, ‘Sandy.’</p><p>“Hey kids, can I get you drinks?” The waitress asked with impeccable timing as she handed them Denny’s menus and barely looked at them. Veronica kept her menu closed. As if there was anything else to order for breakfast at a Denny’s than the obvious. </p><p>“Coke,” he said.</p><p>“Diet Coke please. And I think we know what we want. We’ll take two Grand Slams please, my eggs scrambled and yours?” She pointed at JD who looked quite surprised to have a girl order for him.</p><p>“Um, over easy,” he went with it anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, coming right up.” She then took her time going to the back to put their order in.</p><p>“Did you just order for me? I’m honestly not sure if I think that’s sexy or emasculating.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is 1989 JD, a woman can take charge of her own morning after date. Besides, it’s the signature breakfast of the house, isn’t it? You don’t come to Denny’s for breakfast for the heart smart healthy plate. We get the Grand Slam at Denny’s. Two pancakes, side of sausage, bacon, hash browns, two eggs any style.” She put her fingers to her lips and smooched them imitating a stereotypical Italian in a jarred sauce commercial. “It’s a damn good morning in America.” He laughed as she echoed his similar rant about 7/11 Slurpees from last night.</p><p>“You’re in a good mood for someone who last night was petrified of Heather Chandler destroying her.” She shook her head.</p><p>“Seriously, none of that remotely matters.”</p><p>“Last night was that good, huh?” His smugness was out in full force. Memories of the night they spent together, the way she had let go of all her inhibitions and for one of the first times in her young life had so completely been… herself flooded her entire body. She blushed and averted her eyes.</p><p>“It was actually,” she admitted.</p><p>“It was,” he repeated, only more serious this time. The waitress came back and delivered their breakfasts and sodas, breaking the serious mood. They also became far too enraptured in watching each other's preferred methods of sauce-ing and seasoning their traditional Denny’s breakfasts.</p><p>“Are you pouring the syrup over everything?” She asked agog as he lifted the syrup bottle and poured pools of it on his platter. “Oh boy, Mrs. Butterworth was not meant to be abused that way.”</p><p>“It’s in an unmarked container, don’t ruin the mystery. For all we know this is a special blend of the house.” She laughed as she continued to watch him.<br/>
<br/>
“Even the sausage and eggs?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.” He put the syrup down and lifted his fork and knife, slicing off a bit of sausage and rolling it around in the sticky sweet stuff. He held out the fork to her, “try it.” Gingerly she took the fork and put the bite in her mouth, she chewed delicately as his eager eyes waited in anticipation for her to love it like he did.</p><p>She grimaced instead. She had always found maple syrup to be a bit much. “That’s disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.” He didn’t take offense though and the two merely laughed. “Your sugar addiction is bordering on planning the twinkie defense, you’re aware right?” </p><p>“I’m laying the groundwork for my legal team. We’ll see if the court upholds it,” he smirked, taking a large bite of eggs.</p><p>She proceeded to her own dressing and prepping. She picked up the ketchup bottle and set to work on her own breakfast. Now it was his turn to watch in amazement as she poured ungodly amounts of ketchup over her eggs, potatoes, and breakfast meat. He was in rapture as she lifted it up and down to get the right amount of red stuff to cover it evenly. She then proceeded to take the pepper shaker and gingerly sprinkle a fair amount of pepper over the whole thing.</p><p>“And you’re making fun of me?” He said pointing to her own ketchup addiction.</p><p>“Everything tastes better with ketchup. Heinz number 57, works every time,” she said mimicking the Lando Calrissian beer ad. He shook his head and they both dug into their equally dressed and dolled up breakfasts. Her tummy rumbled. Food. She needed food.</p><p>After devouring her bacon and browns, he spoke. “You gonna eat the rest of those pancakes?” She shook her head. </p><p>“Take ‘em. Pancakes start out exciting than after a few bites I go, ‘oh yeah, that’s a pancake.’” Luckily they had been spared the ketchup treatment. He speared them with his fork and dropped him on his plate where he eagerly poured syrup over them. She eyed his untouched potatoes that didn’t have any syrup on them. She loved hash browns. They were like french fries you could eat for breakfast. She loved french fries. “You, uh, want those hash browns?” He lifted the plate and she greedily took them on hers, reaching for the Heinz.</p><p>After a beat he spoke, “I like you Veronica,” he coughed realizing he had come off more serious than he had meant to and quickly went back to sarcasm. “Not just because last night you climbed into my bedroom and demanded sexual favors,” she kicked him teasingly and eyed him wide, as she shoveled ketchup coated potatoes in her mouth, but he didn’t relent. “Or because I found out that last night I boldly went where no man has gone before....” She kicked him again. “Or because--”  </p><p>“Veronica? Veronica Sawyer is that you?”</p><p>Duke. Heather Duke. It had been a long time since she heard that voice. She faintly remembered Heather Duke graduating, saying she was going to Ohio State, and promptly losing touch. </p><p>Now here she was standing before her, aged seventeen, in all of her preppy glory. Her hair was perfectly styled and coiffed to look like Cindy Crawford’s latest Vogue cover and she was holding a large to go order. Lunch. The Heathers were probably meeting for lunch. Heather Duke was always the Heathers’ food bitch. She vaguely wondered if it was to plan her execution. Heather Chandler was the Robespierre of Westerberg High and Duke was high on the council after all.</p><p>“Hello Heather,” Veronica responded, the mood promptly killed at their booth. JD was just silent as he watched Veronica and Heather interact. He had a hard time keeping track. She wasn’t the head one or the cheerleader. Ah yes! The poser, he remembered, the one that was always trying to one up the head one. In every mean girl group he’d encountered at all his high schools there was always one of her.</p><p>“It is so good to see you especially after the spectacular show last night. And… Jason, right? JD?” She pointed blankly at him. He just lifted two fingers and vaguely waved at the traditionally pretty girl in green. “Yes, the psycho kid who almost took Kurt and Ram out of starting for Homecoming. That was majorly not cool.” JD just smugly shrugged, not caring. </p><p>He really didn’t like these girls. He didn’t like anyone who took joy in abusing others in general, and she was clearly trying to abuse the pretty girl sitting across from him. And not just any pretty girl. The pretty girl that played footsie with him in Denny's and woke up in his arms that morning. The girl whose body was warmer than any blanket he’d ever slept with. Veronica Sawyer. No, he did not like anyone who was cruel to Veronica Sawyer.</p><p>“Well, this is very cozy. The same outfit you had on last night. How very.” She smiled in that way. That way Veronica was stunned to remember so clearly. That way all mean girls smiled, like they knew something you didn’t and wanted to make sure you knew that they knew something you didn’t. </p><p>The difference was that this Veronica didn’t give two shits about that anymore. At least that’s what she told herself. If she didn’t care anymore than how did she have the ability to still make her insides churn after all this time? A few minutes ago she was laughing and teasing with a boy over syrup and ketchup, boldly riding her stocking-ed foot up his leg to seduce him. She liked that Veronica a whole lot better than the one that let someone as insignificant as Heather Duke get to her.</p><p>This bullshit, that’s what she was trying to change, right? She didn’t want her frustration and anger over bullies to rot her or JD’s soul, and poison them both.</p><p>“Well, toodles,” she said gleefully waggling her fingers, like a deranged Gidget re-run.</p><p>“As pleasant as always,” JD said dryly, sipping his Coca-Cola after she left. “There’s simply far too many Heathers in the world,” he said darkly. “Maybe if there were a few less…” A pit grew in Veronica’s stomach. No. <em> No. </em></p><p>“That’s not funny,” her tone was suddenly stern and dark.<br/>
<br/>
“What?” He said taken aback that he had spoken anything but the truth, his dark spell gone.</p><p>“She’s nothing, okay? We were having a good breakfast,” she said, starting to toy with the food on her plate.<br/>
<br/>
“Did I do something?” He asked, perplexed. “I thought you hated those bitches too.”</p><p>“They’re just background noise, okay?” She took a bite of her potatoes and even though they were the same salty fried french fries for breakfast covered in ketchup joy they had been minutes before, they tasted like ash now. God dammit.</p><p>“I was joking,” he said, confused. He reached his hand out and touched hers lightly. “I’m sorry, okay, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”</p><p>She smiled and touched his hand back. They hadn’t done anything wrong this morning, she reminded herself. They didn’t give Heather C any Drain-O or stage a suicide.</p><p>They finished their meal and JD pulled out his money and paid the good people of Denny’s for their breakfasts even though Veronica had tried to insist that as a modern 80s woman she would go dutch.</p><p>“Veronica, it was a Denny’s breakfast, I didn't take you to Spagos. Don’t worry about it,” when she got a little flummoxed. They walked out with his arm around her and went back to his car.</p><p>They spent the rest of Saturday driving around and joking before going back to his empty house. It was quiet and he put on some tapes and records. He had all sorts of music she knew no store around Sherwood was going to have. Beastie Boys, The Descendants, Bad Religion, Violent Femmes. He had lived in so many different places it was easier to get a hold of the stuff she'd only heard late night straining to pick up the Remmington college station. She was embarrassed that she didn't know a lot of them but they played them anyway, having fun. She'll forever associate side two of the Violent Femmes debut album with JD hooking her legs over his shoulders and going down on her. He began with "Prove My Love" rather fittingly and she climaxed during "Gone Daddy Gone." She feverishly hoped that was more rock and roll than prophetic.</p><p>Around six they got hungry. He opened his fridge to see what the hell he had other than the usual scattered brewskies and leftovers. “Okay. I’ve got three day old pizza, leftover burgers from last week… And I think at one point this was cheese. Most likely left behind by the previous tenant.” He tossed it in the trash. She looked at him a little askew. “Sorry, I was supposed to go grocery shopping today but I got sidetracked.” Yeah, she thought, by me.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s okay.” It always tugged at her heart to see him living like this. He wasn’t that old, he wasn’t supposed to be in charge of his own food options all the time and she knew it had been like this for awhile. Her mom had made her every meal of her life practically. There had always been something to eat in her fridge as a kid. Always a snack. She had been taken care of.</p><p>“Anywhere deliver good Chinese food?” He asked, checking his money. She reached into her own purse to help pay. “Stop it,” he just said, waving her money away. She obliged his male pride and gave him the name of the spot. He called and asked the operator for the number in the directory. She ordered a sweet and sour chicken special and him the sesame chicken, with a side order of dumplings and pork egg rolls. “Extra duck sauce!” Veronica hissed at him as he was giving the restaurant his address. He repeated her request.</p><p>About thirty minutes later the doorbell rang when Veronica was using the bathroom. JD opened the door and stared at the teenage boy about his age with the food. “Hey man, twenty bucks,” the delivery guy said. He handed him twenty-three. “Cool, cool. Hey, uh, I know you right? New kid?” JD already felt like this exchange had gone on a bit too long.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks man, have a good night.” JD tried to close his door but the delivery guy held it open.</p><p>“That fight in the caf was major man!” He jumped and slapped his hand on the door frame. “Kurt and Ram are such dicks. Major points for knocking them down. I really respected that.” He laughed and reached to high five him. JD awkwardly accepted it and tried to close the door.</p><p>“Oh excellent,” Veronica said as she came towards the smell of food in just her bare stocking-ed feet. She hadn’t noticed her blouse was not buttoned perfectly straight-- when they were listening to music he had unbuttoned it-- but everyone else did. “I’m starving.” She stopped dead in her tracks. She didn’t realize the door was still open and the delivery guy was still there. Kyle Miller. She had forgotten. Yearbook photographer Kyle Miller delivered Saturday nights for the local Chinese spot.</p><p>“Veronica?” He said, mostly in surprise. She sighed inwardly, it was only a matter of seconds before he put two and two together.</p><p>“Hey Kyle,” she said weakly. One, two, three--</p><p>His eyes went wide. “Oh, hey man, I get it,” he joked with a laugh. “Sorry. Have a good night guys” he gave a faux nudge towards a not amused JD. He closed the door and stared at Veronica. </p><p>“Is that going to be an issue for you?” He asked, noting the exchange.</p><p>Veronica shook her head. Kyle Miller. Took photographs, went to Idaho State. Never any issues with him. “No, Kyle’s nice. He’s not like-- it’s fine. Besides, if Heather Duke knows… it doesn’t matter. Let’s just eat,” she shook the cobwebs from her brain.</p><p>They crashed after the feast of take out. “You have to go home?” He asked, clearly hoping the answer was no.</p><p>“Mom thinks I’m spending the weekend at Heather’s,” she recalled. “No need to correct the address. She never calls over anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cool,” he whispered as he pulled her against him with a kiss. “Slumber party?”</p><p>“Only if I can braid your hair.” He laughed against her lips and wrapped his arms around her.</p><p>“I don’t know, can we play Truth or Dare? That always gets sexy, right?” He asked suggestively.</p><p>She scrunched her face. “I think you watch too much scrambled porn.” He laughed and pulled her into the couch, grabbing the remote. They settled into a comfortable position with him sitting up with his arm around her, and her cuddled up-- her legs curled to her chest and her head on his chest. He turned on the TV and started flipping around, eventually settling on an old movie where a plane had to be landed safely. One of the Airport movies, neither of them could remember which number, they were all kind of the same. After a few moments she glanced at her blue and white Swatch. Ten PM it read. She closed her eyes and breathed in the way he smelled. Laundry soap from his black t-shirt-- he must have just washed it-- and a masculine smell she quite liked and fondly remembered. His one arm was holding her and the other had the remote in his hand. He was making snarky remarks about the plot but she could only barely hear him. Ten PM. Heather Chandler officially had ten more hours of life than she had ever enjoyed previously. She wondered vaguely if she knew it seizing the opportunity for a better life. More likely, she had used it to nurse a hangover and hatch an evil scheme. </p><p>She realized JD and her had a pretty fantastic morning and afternoon that didn’t involve staging a suicide: a great relationship goal for them to be honest. <em>So that was what that was like</em>, she thought. It was pretty terrific, honestly. She nodded off, her head on his chest, with his fingers absently playing in her hair. The first time around she ended this night in her own home, vomiting her guts up in guilt, petrified the cops would see through her forged note and come banging on her door, unable to sleep in fear and regret. This time she was lazily dozing off in front of the TV in JD’s arms.</p><p>Heather Chandler was still a bully and that sucked. She was still planning on “killing” Veronica on Monday. JD still had the lingering hate rooted in his father and trauma she knew could be a powder keg, but without introducing him to the addictive power surge he had gotton from murder? Oh, who knows. All she knew was that her belly was full and his fingers in her hair felt nice, and so far things were already way better than last time. Monday morning would come around and she had a phone number in her head, a phone number to someone she knew in a previous life that hopefully could help her.</p><p>“You asleep babe?” He asked, noticing how slow her breath was and that she wasn’t responding with her own sarcastic comments about the old movie they had landed on. She murmured in response. “That’s a yes,” he whispered, lowering the volume a bit on the TV and kissing her head. He tightened his arms around her. She could have imagined it but she thought she heard him say, “Good night. I’ll protect you from the monsters. All of them.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, that was chapter 3. Thanks to everyone reading so far. Fair warning, an update will be a bit further out. I have some other work to do this week and unfortunately this can't be a priority for me. It will not be abandoned though, I swear it.</p><p>And before anyone points it out-- I KNOW it's a stretch as Sandman #1 was published in January of '89 that JD would have been able to get all the issues but... come on, it's totally on point that the he'd be totally into late 80s/early 90s Vertigo. Gaiman, Moore, Ellison. Preacher, Watchmen, Hellblazer... all totally up his alley so we're just going with it. Otherwise I've tried very hard to not be anachronistic. </p><p>Kudos and Reviews are lovely, bt dubs, but no pressure.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Game Three Is Postponed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica sees friends at school.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Thanks for hanging in there. I will try to have at least one update a week but we'll see, but thanks for understanding. Full disclosure: About 26K words other than what I've posted have been written... they're just not in order. BUT, that means I have the ending down and a lot of the climax, so we know where we're going and I'll be dammed if I waste that work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monday morning rolled around quicker than she had expected. She left JD’s on Sunday morning reluctantly after eating the leftovers from the night before. He drove her home and dropped her off a block away from her house. She was confused. “Why are you stopping here?” He twiddled his hands on the steering room nervously.</p><p>“Um, I didn’t think you’d want your parents seeing my piece of shit car pulling up and dropping you off, wearing the same clothes you left in on Friday night,” he said. She was a bit shocked. Piece of shit car? Well, yeah, it was... but it was a car. She would take any crappy car over her no-car status any day. She saw his point though, maybe these circumstances weren’t the opportune time to meet the parental units. </p><p>Truthfully, JD himself was not in the mood to be confronted by Veronica’s lovely two-parent household. She came from a nice protected and safe family and it was something he had precious little experience in dealing with. </p><p>“Oh, um, okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”<br/><br/>“Of course, I heard an execution is planned. I want front-row seats at the guillotine. I’ll bring the tomatoes to throw. I hear heads will roll.” She slapped her head. </p><p>“Don’t remind me.” They laughed.<br/><br/>“Well, if you’ve recovered from death by Friday I’ll take you to a movie or something.”</p><p>“A proper date?” She asked, intrigued. They never had one of those. He shrugged. “So presumptuous. Maybe I had plans already.”<br/><br/>“Did you?”<br/><br/>“A girl likes to be asked out properly, given a choice rather than be told where she’s going.” She smirked at him. He liked her. He really liked her. She could keep up with him and he loved it.</p><p>He rolled his eyes and spoke formally. “Veronica Sawyer, may I have the pleasure of accompanying you to the cinema on Friday night? It will be followed by driving you to wherever kids in this town find it appropriate to park, where I will proceed to--” She cut him off with a finger to his lips. </p><p>“Make it a surprise what you do to me there and pick me up at 6.”</p><p>“Wear something, you know, not complicated. The car is a bit more cramped.” She shoved him in mock outrage and he laughed. “Wait, it’ll be your first time in my backseat, I’ll make it special. New air freshener,” he said solemnly as he poked his old tree on his rear view he got at 7/11. She shook her head, knowing he was just trying to goad her.</p><p>She gave him a lingering goodbye kiss and told him she’d see him Monday morning. Monday morning, when her “death sentence” by Heather Chandler was set to begin. </p><p>Exiting the car, she watched as he pulled away. She finally had time to think. What had happened? She remembered her previous life, the things she had lived through the first time around. How had this happened? If this was all some dream-- some coma induced dream or after-life fantasy-- than how can the details be so real? Her feelings? Time was moving like time normally did? She was hungry, tired, and horny-- sometimes all three at once. Maybe, maybe whatever power was doing this-- God, time, fate, whatever-- didn’t need her to ask so many questions. Maybe she should just accept it for what it was-- a second chance. There was no time like the present and she could only live for the now. If nothing else that Saturday she just had… wow, her whole body still shook from it.</p><p>She vaguely remembered the first timeline and living to be 23, going to college and keeping a lot to herself. The original course of events seemed to be burned into her brain though as far as senior year of high school. That girl though, that broken and walled up girl she had turned into in the aftermath… that wasn’t who she was. It was hard to explain, even to herself. It was like she was her teen self, but she had memories of her old life. The feelings all felt so very of the moment. In talking to JD this weekend she felt it-- she felt the old Veronica shining through even though she was aware of what he could be capable of if the right set of circumstances came to be.</p><p>One thing was still very clear though: 555-9087. 555-9087 she repeated to herself. It was a phone number. A phone number of Dr. Samuel Beckett-- the man she had been interning for-- would be interning for? God, a person could go crazy thinking about it-- in 1994, five years from now. He was a psychologist. But how to get him to take a new patient? More importantly how to get a new patient to go to him? Challenges to face.</p><p>She walked into her house to find it empty. She had been looking forward to seeing her parents but it could wait until they got home. She needed a change of clothes and shower desperately. She smiled as the refreshing memory of her old home washed over her. The TV with rabbit ears, the wood paneling, the orange and brown… everything that the 80s just were awash in. She went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. She smiled. Her dad’s Sanka.  He bought it when he decided he was done with caffeine. That was in 1984. He had exactly one cup and the Sanka had lived in the cupboard since. Her mother never threw it out, "just in case" company wanted it.</p><p>She went to the bathroom and showered and changed and breathed in the space of her old room-- exactly as she remembered it to be. Tentatively she walked over to her desk and sat down. Her old diary. She ran her fingers down it gently and opened it. She picked up the pen and started a new entry.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I can’t believe this is happening.  </em>
</p><p>How to explain…? She left it at that. </p><p>Around five her parents came home and her mom set to work on dinner.</p><p>“Oh, hey peanut,” her dad said, surprised by her hug hello. “How was the homecoming party and slumber party weekend?”<br/><br/>“Well dad, Friday night I puked on the queen bee’s shoes after getting drunk. I wandered to the new kid’s house and broke in demanding sex. Saturday was the best day of my do-over life. I spent the entire day having breakfast, goofing off, and discovering how great sex with my new boyfriend can be,” was what she did not say, obviously. She settled on, “fine dad” before pouncing on her mom.</p><p>“Oh honey, it’s good to see you too.” She just laughed and proceeded to get the things together for dinner. Dad turned on baseball as was his custom this time a year.</p><p>“Hey dad, 20 bucks says it’s the A’s versus the Giants this year,” Veronica said with the vague recollection of the ‘89 series and the earthquake that interrupted it.<br/><br/>“You’re on!” He said laughing. “I always hope for the Cubbies though, why is anyone’s guess.”<br/><br/>“It’s cause you’re an idiot dad,” she said automatically.</p><p>“Oh, that’s right,” he smiled.</p><p>“Oh, you two,” her mother laughed as she put out the chicken a la carte. She went to bed that night having no idea what to expect at school the next day. The first school day of her altered existence.</p><p>Monday morning at Westerberg High. She remembered the way this Monday went the first time. She remembered the grief counselors, the media blitz, her fear… JD watching her like a hawk to make sure she didn't break. It all lead to her aghast at the way Heather Chandler had been deified into the Queen of American Teenage Tragedy. Suzie Osterberg tried to make her wear a black armband in memory of Heather Chandler. Suzie Osterberg, whom she now saw with the other loadies on the lawn taking a few hits of grass to make it through just another day of the normal bullshit high school consisted of.</p><p>Well, Veronica thought, here’s the day you always wanted to see. A day with everything still status quo at Westerberg, all it’s students alive and well. All still pricks, but breathing pricks.  Martha ran up to her first. “Oh my god Veronica, is it true what they’re saying about you?” </p><p>Martha. </p><p>How much she missed her. She had to resist the urge to drag her into her and give her the biggest hug in the world. Martha. How had she forgotten there was also Martha to save. She had to confess to her and hope to god she could make sure was okay. She needed to desperately make sure her friend didn’t give in to any darker urges even if it meant losing her.<br/><br/>“What? That I got wasted at the party and puked on Heather’s shoes? Guilty as charged.” She pushed it away and tried to take her hands and talk seriously to her. “We really need to talk though, in private. Hey, what are you doing--?”</p><p>She interrupted her. “No, not-- I don’t know anything about that. You got drunk after I left? No one was driving, were they? Did you call the safe ride line?” Martha looked confused and disappointed. Martha was a senior member of SADD and when they had the assembly with the sad parents talking about their kids dying in drunk car accidents and the meaner kids made fun of them… it really upset her.</p><p>“It’s fine. I walked. We just really need to talk, okay? In private.”</p><p>“No, Veronica. You have to know what everyone’s saying about you. That you-- that you--” Martha got nervous and waved her hands around, whilst Veronica looked confused.<br/><br/>“Martha I love you dearly, but unless you’re trying to tell me to steal third I don’t know what you’re-- ah!” She ended that sentence squealing in delight. Arms, long strong arms, had grabbed her from behind, and wrapped around her middle. A light and lingering kiss was planted on her head. She felt the scratchy fabric of his trench coat on her neck. He smelled so good. “Hey,” she sighed to him. God, it had been less than 24 hours since he dropped her at her place but she definitely missed the feeling of this.</p><p>“Morning,” he told her.</p><p>She awkwardly waved an arm from Martha to JD and asked Martha, “you’ve met JD right?”<br/><br/>“Martha, right? Dunstock? Greetings and salutations. It’s a pleasure to be formally introduced.” He removed one of his arms from his girl and extended it to Martha, who awkwardly and hesitantly took it. She was raised polite after all.</p><p>Martha pursed her lips. New kid, Jason Dean. He went by a cool kid nickname, JD. He was scary, weird, unknown, and hadn’t spoken much in the three weeks that he’d been at their school. That being said, he was also the first person not to call her “Dumptruck” other than Veronica. He’d also never called her “wide load” or any other of the nasty names most of Westerberg called her. He was clearly with her oldest friend, that’s for sure. Sure, they hadn’t been super close this month but Martha didn’t want to see her hurt in any sense of the word no matter what. <em> From womb to tomb! From birth to earth! </em>She had always believed. He dressed strange and got into a major fight with Kurt and Ram and handed both of their asses to them. She had no idea why that hadn’t scared Veronica the way it did her. She saw her that day in the cafeteria, it excited her.</p><p>“Hi.” She answered bleakly not knowing how to vocalize her concern while Veronica was clearly bliss-ing out on being in his arms. “We have US History together.” In class the few times the teacher tried calling on JD to answer a question he’d just stare at her, before going back to the book he was reading instead of answering the question. She had thought it a bit rude.<br/><br/>“That’s right. That old bag Mrs. Williams. I remember, last week she gave you a hard time over your paper. Don’t listen to her, her panties are so tangled in the Republican Party’s lies she honestly believes Nixon was a victim. She also mis-attributed the Washington Post’s reporters as ‘Woodside and Bernard’ instead of Bob Woodword and Carl Bernstein. Like, they only just literally wrote a famous book about it. Seriously, Just keep writing what you know to be true, she can stuff it.”<br/><br/>“Um, yeah, thanks.” Martha tittered awkwardly at the coziness of Veronica and the new kid,  especially at the way Veronica lit up hearing him say all that smart stuff. Veronica loved guys that said smart stuff, part of why she never really liked most of the boys in school.</p><p>“Sorry Martha, what were you saying?” She asked her friend when she came back from outer space. “About what everyone’s saying about me?” JD still had his arms around her. A pit grew in Martha’s stomach. She knew Veronica, better than she probably realized, and she knew her type-- guy-wise. </p><p>Last movie night when it was Veronica’s turn. She had rented The Terminator and Martha flat out saw her friend’s eyes get soft as she unconsciously whispered Kyle Reese’s speech to Sarah Connor about how he came through time for her. He wore a trench coat too. Martha never understood it. Martha liked romances with happy endings, Veronica seemed drawn to the tragic ones.</p><p>“Nothing, just… I guess it’s true.” Martha was also hurt that she hadn’t called her to tell her this herself. They were best friends still, weren’t they? Aren’t you supposed to tell your best friend when you… <em>you know</em> for the first time? Hell, Veronica would know immediately if she even kissed a guy.<br/><br/>“Just tell me what has the school all abuzz about me? Honestly, I do not care right now. I’ve decided to live my life as a post-popularity cool girl. I do not care what they think of me.”</p><p>“Um. Well, Heather Duke told everyone you hooked up with…”<br/><br/>“Me?” JD asked. Martha nodded. He chuckled to himself. He’d never been the subject of gossip before. So long as this didn’t upset Veronica, he didn’t really care what people said about him.</p><p>“I figured as much. We saw her on Saturday at breakfast. Seriously, though? That’s all? What about Heather Chandler, doesn’t she want to crucify me? And really, that’s the best gossip going around Westerberg? My relationship status?”</p><p>“This town is getting desperate,” JD agreed. “They really need to bring cable television here.” He de-tangled himself from her when she told him she had to book it for homeroom.</p><p>"Martha, we do need to have a heart to heart at some point. Okay?" Martha nodded at her, looking concerned.</p><p>It was eerie. Heather Chandler-- who’s presence at Westerberg high was normally so strong-- was not at school. Was this a reprieve? Was Heather Chandler sick or something? Like, actually sick? As far as Heather Duke goes all she had from her was one smug glance in chemistry 3rd period. She had no idea what that meant. So, the school knew she and JD were together but so what? She never tried to hide it the first time and so far, other than some whispers she hadn’t heard anything mean about it. Heather Duke really was second rate at rumor mills when Heather Chandler still held power.</p><p>She was at her locker about to go to lunch when Kyle MIller, yearbook photographer and Chinese food delivery guy, ran up to her. “Hey, Veronica, I just want to let you know, this wasn’t- I didn’t- I didn’t tell anyone what I saw Saturday night.” He looked freaked.</p><p>“I know. This is Heather Duke. Long story. No, I know, you’re a good guy.”</p><p>“Oh thank god. I felt so bad when I heard it all over school. Man, delivering food on Saturday night, you see a lot of random hook ups both grown ups and from school and I-- this is gonna sound silly-- but I kind of have a code. I never spill anyone’s gossip. It's fun, knowing who's hooking up with who but, like, gossiping about it? It's so tacky." He paused and got serious. "Also, I saw the cafeteria fight. Your boyfriend could kick my ass.” He paused. “I’ll be honest, that was the real reason I wanted to make sure you knew it wasn’t me. I don’t want to get a beat down from him. At the end of the day, I’m a lover not a fighter. I got asthma, I wear glasses, and I flunked gym--”</p><p>She laughed. “I respect your adherence to the delivery code. It’s okay. No beat down that I’m aware of. Also you don't wear glasses.”</p><p>"I could and would to prevent being beat up."</p><p>JD walked up behind Kyle and hovered for a moment until Kyle noticed and got spooked. He walked away quickly.</p><p>“That was mean,” she said, truthfully. “He was trying to make sure I knew it wasn’t him gossiping about us.” He laughed, kissed her and leaned in to play with her hair as she put her things inside. “He thought you might beat him up like you did Ram and Kurt.” He laughed. </p><p>“I only use my powers for good, trust me.” She glared at him. "I mean it, he seems... okay. I have no problem with him." He shrugged, already forgetting about it. He leaned in. “Today has already been weak. My English teacher just went on a rant that incorrectly analyzed Frost's <em>The Road Less Traveled</em> as inspirational and my math teacher was hungover. What do you say we sneak off campus for some slushies as a pick-me-up?” She hardly had time to answer when two tiny soft hands clamped on her arms from behind and started dragging her away. </p><p>“I need to borrow her. I will bring her right back to you, unharmed, I promise,” the voice was Heather MacNamera’s. She dragged her into the bathroom off the lunch room that was unofficially designated the Heathers’ girls room leaving behind a bewildered JD and a stunned Veronica.</p><p>“Heather!” She was deeply confused. “What are you doing?” Heather quickly checked the stalls to make sure no one else was in there. It was clear, most people knew better than to use that bathroom if a Heather was in there. </p><p>“Oh my God, you did it! I can’t believe you hooked up with him! When Heather told me I know I was supposed to laugh or something but all I could help thinking was, ‘wow, she must be so happy!’”</p><p>“Heather, I’m so confused. Aren’t you supposed to be destroying me and freezing me because of Friday night?” She waved her hands at her.</p><p>“Come on Veronica, a lot of people puke at those parties.” Her voice got slightly bitter, “Like Heather’s never puked before. My dad’s car we borrowed last Halloween much?” she muttered. “Besides, Heather isn’t here today, and I don’t know what’s going on and until I am officially told my marching orders you are still going to tell me everything. So, come on. I want to hear everything. Did you just, like, meet him somewhere or did you just knock right on his door? How did you even find him after the party?”</p><p>“Um,” Veronica teetered, unsure what was happening. “I kind of broke into his bedroom window.” Heather’s eyes bulged.</p><p>“Oh my god! You have guts!” She laughed in her high squealed and practiced laugh that made her sound cool and interesting, but still her laughter and glee was genuine. “I wish I could be that ballsy sometimes.”</p><p>She was confused, Heather M was never genuine or sincere when Heather C was still alive. She was always so worried about what others thought or what others said about her. What had changed this morning other than Heather Chandler’s non-apparent suicide?</p><p>“Seriously, Heather. What’s going on?” A cold shudder went through her. “Are you-- are you trying to trick me into getting details for Heather to use against me?” Heather Mac looked genuinely stunned at that.</p><p>“Veronica. Really? No.” She looked down. “Shit. It’s not an unfair accusation. Look, I’ve had time to think since the party. Two whole days. A super long time! I don’t know… I like being popular and I like having a place at school but… when you were with the group…? Veronica, I had fun with you. Like, actual fun. Like remember you and me going to the mall that one Saturday the other week?” Veronica searched her brain and vaguely recalled being in the Gap with just Heather Mac watching her max out her Dad’s credit card. </p><p>“Um, yeah.”<br/><br/>“I asked you if you liked the yellow sundress I was looking at and you told me yes.”</p><p>"True bonding moment," Veronica thought possibly a bit too sarcastically. “I don’t see what that--”<br/><br/>“No, like, when you shop with Heather or Heather... It’s like a competition. Hold up anything and one of them will shoot you down. It’s so nerve wracking.” She looked down. Veronica had been so overwhelmed with Heather C the times they went that she hadn’t thought of it that way. “Even when I asked you what you thought and you didn’t like it you just scrunched your face and went, ‘nah but oh here, this is cute.’ It wasn’t… mean. It was, well, fun. Shopping with you was fun! God, Veronica, I forgot shopping was supposed to be fun!” Veronica moved her sarcasm aside for one moment and really considered Heather Mac in that moment. She knew from the first time around that there was a lot going on underneath the perky cheerleader facade and what she had said just now was touching, if a slight bit consumerist.</p><p>“Look, who knows what’s going to happen with Heather when she comes in tomorrow or whatever but for right now I want to know all about it and have fun with you. Pinky promise, I will not spill the beans.” She held out her pinky. Veronica laughed, not remembering the last time she engaged in a solemn pinky vow. She hooked her finger with Heather’s and laughed. “So, tell me! I mean, it was your first, right? You never told us but, I mean, it was right? You always-- I mean, you always acted...” Veronica acquiesced to the interrogation and nodded. They both squealed in joy and Veronica clutched her head in a mix of embarrassment and glee. Veronica’s heart was exploding. She never got this. She never got to giddily tell girlfriends all about her first time. She never realized what she had missed until Heather Mac pulled her into the girls room to gossip this Monday.</p><p>It was the best. It really was the best.</p><p>“So, like, how is he?” Heather M asked excitedly. She hopped up on the sink in the bathroom and perched up there with an inquisitive stare.</p><p>“What do you mean?”<br/><br/>“Ver-on-ica! Come on! details. Everything about you and Billy the Kid. You have to tell me everything. I mean, he may be a freak but… I mean, he is kinda cute.”<br/><br/>“He's gorgeous,” Veronica countered.</p><p>“Okay, yeah, he is,” they laughed. “So dark and mysterious, dangerous… God, you’ve really had it bad for him ever since he kicked Kurt and Ram’s ass in the caf the other day, haven’t you? Come on, I need to know the most important thing: bigger than a baby’s fist?”</p><p>“I’m not telling you that!”</p><p>“Straight? Crooked?” She mimicked the shape with her fore finger.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Okay, okay, well, tell me, was he good at least? You can tell me that.”</p><p>Carefully, she eyed the girl's room door to make sure no one else was around. Heather batted her concerns away. She was in the popular bathroom. No one would interrupt. “It was nice. Like, really nice. He’s-- he’s nice.” </p><p>“Nice?” She said, a little disappointed. “You’re going to tell me JD is ‘nice’? That boy can not be ‘nice.’”<br/><br/>“I mean, he felt… nice when we were…” She motioned with her hands what they did. Heather clapped her hands and threw her head back. “Amazing actually. Pretty frickin’ awesome.”<br/><br/>“I’m dying here! Veronica, tell me more.” She reached into her purse and dug through her cosmetics and brushes to pull out last month's Cosmo. Quickly she flipped to a page and handed it to her. “Okay, show me in the article exactly what he did.” Still laughing, Veronica grabbed the magazine and read the headline. “10 Sexual Moves to Try With Your Partner.” Laughing, she scanned the list.</p><p>“Um, number 2, 5, and... 7.” </p><p>“That many times?” Her jaw dropped. Veronica just darted her eyes away, still embarrassed to just say yes. Greedily Heather took her magazine back and scanned what they matched up with. She nodded.</p><p>“7! On your first time! Wow. But… number 5? Really?” Heather looked pensive. “JD did that for you? Wow. I’ve never been able to get Ram or any other guy to do that.” Had she never…?</p><p>“Wait, Heather, have you ever, I mean-- have you ever reached-- the end with any guy?”</p><p>“Did, um, did you?” She asked, suddenly no longer the expert she always acted.</p><p>“Yeah,” she admitted. “I did.”<br/><br/>“Oh. Was it as good as they say?”  Veronica suddenly felt-- she didn’t know, bad?-- for Heather Mac. Heather had had a lot of sex. Like, a lot. She always talked so big. Veronica just nodded to her question.</p><p>Heather paused and looked at her. “I know, I read this magazine cover to cover every month and I know I’m responsible for my own sexual satisfaction, that I deserve it, should ask for it but… when it’s happening they’re usually so… greedy, and quick, you know? And then I worry, like, will they call me a slut in the morning if I act like I like it too much? Will he call again if I make demands on him? What’s the rumor mill going to say about Heather MacNamera? So I just clam up and let them… you know, finish. I lie and say they rocked my world but… I’m Stupid, right?”</p><p>"You’re not stupid, they’re stupid for making you feel like that. Honestly, do you even like the football players?”<br/><br/>“What? Oh, what do you mean? I mean, of course I like dating them, they’re popular.” Heather grabbed her brush and started to touch up her blonde locks.<br/><br/>“Yeah, but, do you have fun with them? When they paw at you, do you like it?” She jumped up on the sink next to her. “I know, just for fun. Any boy in the school other than the football team. Who do you think is cute? Funny? Cool to hang out with?”</p><p>“Veronica, I’m the head cheerleader, I have to date a football player. Maybe a basketball player if the team is doing well enough to justify the cheerleaders presence.”<br/><br/>“Yes, you’re right or else the whole system will collapse.” They laughed.</p><p>“Okay, any guy in school regardless of their social standing?” She closed her eyes and thought. “Kyle Miller.” She laughed the second she said it out loud disbelieving she said it out loud.</p><p>“Wait, yearbook photographer Kyle Miller? Chinese food delivery kid Kyle Miller?” All right, Veronica thought. Kyle wasn’t a nerd exactly, not athletic but not someone anyone went out of their way to pick on. He dressed pretty normal, always took pictures, offered weed every once in a while but wasn't a perma-fry. Cute? Yeah, she could see that. He always had an easy smile and a joke for a friend. He had a code to uphold she was now aware of which, in some ways, made her like him more. Kyle Miller, yeah, he was date-able. He also would never try to muscle in on Heather Mac, probably never even dare it in fear of a beating from Kurt or Ram. “Ask him out!” Veronica blurted out.</p><p>“Oh Veronica, come on. Girls don’t ask guys out.” Veronica was aghast. She held up the magazine, Heather M wanted to be a Cosmo woman than now was a time to start.</p><p>“Come on, how many articles have you read about women making the first move? How sexy and modern it is. Helen Gurley Brown would be ashamed of you if she heard you say that!” Heather sighed. “Heather, you’d make his millennium if you asked him to go to a movie or something. You're Heather MacNamera, head cheerleader and one of the prettiest girls in school. There is no reason you should worry about asking any guy out. They don’t bring you down socially, you bring them up.” Heather turned to her and smiled. “He’d have a coronary if you talked to him.”</p><p>“Come on Veronica, we both know Heather wouldn't allow it.”</p><p>“Well, I only have a stay of execution, but honestly I just don’t see what the big deal truly is.”</p><p>“You’re brave. Really brave. I’m not.” She shook her head. "And you have this new boyfriend that doesn't care about her to sit with... I don't know Veronica."<br/><br/>“Give it thought at least?”</p><p>“I’ll think about it. Oh! Wouldn't it be fun to double?” Veronica nodded and smiled, even though JD wasn’t exactly the double date kind of guy. Or maybe he would be, who knew.</p><p>The times were a'changin.’ Heather Mac busting free from the Heathers even without the depression of multiple deaths to propel her? “This could work,” she thought. It could work for all of them. Martha and Heather Mac were another two on her list to make right by and she was determined to come out a winner.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The title is a reference to the 1989 World Series briefly mentioned as upcoming in the story. Game three was postponed infamously due to the Loma Prieta quake which broke the Bay Bridge. Game three was just starting and the feed was cut when the quake began. It was the first earthquake caught on live television. And that's your trivia for this chapter. I thought it was a good allegory for Veronica's slight stay of execution from Heather C.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dancing in the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we catch up with JD and meet his Mom and Dad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... this was not planned. It started out with the next chapter but then it got long and I realized that there needed to be a pause between this and the next sequence and I moved some stuff in here that was meant for a later chapter. I also wanted to break up the POV and give you some of JD's perspective. I hope it's clear-- I've backed it up a bit to the Sunday morning after their weekend to tell his side of the story. I hope it works. I also want to put up a warning that spousal/parental abuse is brought up as well as alcohol abuse-- if that's a trigger, please forgive me. I'm trying my best to handle it without exploitation. I'll put tags up for that as well. I hope no offense is taken, I know these are serious things and I don't wish to make light of any of them. It's a part of the character though, in canon, and part of the "explanation" of him. (Not an excuse, to be clear).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>
    <span>1977, Texas</span>
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    <span>Jason was five years old and Sesame Street had just finished. He had on his Osh-Kosh-B'gosh jeans and a red and white striped shirt. He liked Grover the best. He liked when he was a waiter and messed up the orders-- it always made him giggle. He turned the TV off when he heard the familiar strains of his mother’s music from his parent’s room on the turntable. “Do you love me? Now do you love me? Now… that… I... can...  dance…” tickled his ears. He knew that song, his mother loved that song.</span>
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    <span>He stood at the doorway and watched her. She was young, barely 26, and some of her dark brown hair had come loose from her normally immaculate ‘do. Her gold skirt and white top were impeccable as her body moved expertly to the music. The ring on her finger sparkled in the light and the pearls at her throat off-set her skin like an angel. She was dancing in her bare stockinged feet, her heels tucked away at the door. He loved watching her dance, she always looked so free. The routine was practiced and her limbs moved like they were an extension of her heart. She turned and saw him at the door. She wasn’t startled-- Mommy never looked mad to see him, and always gave him a smile. She crooked her finger and beckoned him over.</span>
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    <span>“Come here, baby,” she said mischievously, “I’m gonna teach you to dance. I ever tell you I used to be a dancer?” He nodded. She had told him many times. He had overheard her once say that she had auditioned to be a Rockette in ‘71, but he didn’t know why she didn’t make it-- she really was good! “I was the best,” she bragged to him, not humble at all. “Oh, don’t believe mommy?” She laughed and started singing along to the lyrics shimmying. “Watch me now! Hey, work! Work!” She grabbed his arms and moved him back and forth. He squealed in delight as she did it. She awkwardly bent down to show him how to twirl a girl around. He loved it. He loved it when it was just him and her. She teased him, “Oh, baby, you dance like that with them pretty brown eyes and smile you’ll get all the girls!” She booped his nose and he giggled, loving having her full attention. “I already know it! You’re going to be a heart-breaker.” They laughed, he didn’t get why she thought that was a good thing. The girls at his Montessori school were gross.</span>
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    <span>The fun stopped though when she spotted his car pull up in the driveway. Quickly she turned the music off and spoke to him in a different tone of voice, “baby, why don’t you go to your room and pick a library book out for me to read you tonight? Hmmm? Dinner will be put out soon.” Quickly she went to the mirror to make sure her hair and makeup were in order and her pearls and heels were on. It was him, he realized, their whole world changed when he came home.</span>
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  <span>JD woke up Sunday morning with a start. He had dreamed of his mother dancing and laughing with him. Where had that come from? Images and memories of his mother-- even the best ones-- were best left untouched like an abscess on his heart. It had been a long time since he’d dreamt of her, let alone a dream that didn’t involve his last memory of her.</span>
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  <span>It took a moment to orient himself. He was on the couch, not his bed. He felt a pleasant weight on his chest and a tickle of hair on his nose. Veronica. Veronica and he had fallen asleep watching TV last night. He reached for the remote and turned it off, yawning, not needing to hear the chipper news anchor of the Sunday Morning News. He batted the old memory away, quickly. The fresh memories of Friday night and Saturday surged in to block away the painful ones. </span>
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  <span>“Where the hell did she come from?” He pondered, his fingers lightly brushing her hair away from her lovely face. Veronica stirred at his movement and woke up with a sigh, snuggling against him pleasantly. </span>
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  <span>“What time is it?” She mumbled against his chest. Awkwardly he glanced at his watch, still on his wrist from last night. “Nine.” They started to depart from each other’s arms stretching and popping their joints. As pleasant and romantic as it was to fall asleep in your lover’s arms watching TV on the couch-- it also was a bit cramped and left your body sore the next morning. “You were crushing me last night,” he teased. </span>
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  <span>“I’m sorry,” she laughed, knowing he didn’t mean it. He shook his fingers through his hair to try and get the cobwebs out as she rubbed the sleep from her face and fixed her clothes, desperate for the washroom.</span>
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  <span>He smiled at her sleepy face and leaned in to kiss her. “Ugh, don’t,” she teased. “My morning breath is bad.” He laughed.</span>
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  <span>“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, pecking her mouth. It was pretty bad, but he didn’t care. “Want some coffee or something?”</span>
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  <span>“Ugh, do I need to watch you pour a pound of sugar into yours?” He laughed and nudged her. He got up and wandered over, still waking up, to the kitchen to make a pot and she went to the bathroom to wash up.</span>
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  <span>Upon exiting she watched him as he got the leftovers from last night out and poured water into Mr. Coffee on his counter. </span>
  <span>He pulled two mugs out and opened the fridge. “I’d offer you milk, but we’re out. I have some sweet creamer with sugar though?” She laughed as he shook the sugar milk in front of her. Not having the taste for black coffee, she took it-- even if it did taste like ice cream for breakfast. Which was not the worst thing in the world she realized. She hadn’t developed the taste for coffee. “One day I want to be one of those hip chicks in a sidewalk cafe that can drink their coffee black,” she admitted to him.</span>
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  <span>“Yeah, cigarette in one hand?” He liked this fantasy of hers.</span>
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  <span><br/>
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  <span>“Reading... oh, I don't know... someone deep like Proust and looking out at the Seine? Yup.” She mimicked a look of utter hipness with her coffee.</span>
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  <span>He laughed. “New York City has some cool spots like that too,” he told her. He almost said, “I want to take you there,” but stopped himself knowing how that might sound.</span>
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  <span>“We should go one day,” she said, surprising him. He sipped the coffee and didn’t answer, taking the leftovers from last night out of the microwave. He didn’t know why he didn’t just agree with her. He was having a very hard time processing all of it. These feelings she was stirring up. Humor and sarcasm was the easiest way of dealing with most issues, he realized.</span>
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  <span>After dropping her off that morning, he drove to the store and picked up the groceries realizing normal life was setting back in for the afternoon. The rent was due next week, electric on Thursday. He’d make the checks out and have his dad sign them when he got home so he could mail them out. He tried to focus on a more pleasant subject: Veronica Sawyer, his little Slurpee flirt. The prettiest girl at Westerberg who’d he vaguely been watching since he got to the nowheresville town. She was pretty, hard not to look at. What possessed him to talk to her that day right before the fight? He normally stayed out of all the drama of high school, he was above it after all. There was something about the way she had tried to stand up to them, though.</span>
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  <span>She was different. He threw the Beaudelaire quote out to her just to be a dick, he admitted. He never expected her to actually know who some 19th century French poet they didn't assign in high school was-- let alone have read him. That was the moment, he realized. The moment he knew she was different from the rest of them. She was smart, aware.</span>
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  <span>If only those prick football players hadn’t interrupted them flirting. They deserved every inch of the beat-down. He’d only been at the school for three weeks and he’d already seen those pieces of shit abuse, bully and mock the other guys-- to say little of the nasty shit towards the girls that came out of their mouths-- just because they could throw a football and for some reason these moronic adults thought that was impressive. What was it about straight jocks and calling another dude gay? Why were they so fucking insecure and homophobic about the littlest shit? So what if someone was? What the hell did anyone deserve a beat-down for that? Why did anyone deserve to be bullied at all?</span>
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  <span>"Fucking high school," he thought, "stop thinking about it."</span>
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  <span>How did Veronica get into his brain though? His body would tingle anytime a memory from Friday night or Saturday popped into his head. Her soft skin, the way her body responded to his, the way she had demanded from him, the smell of her shampoo, the way she tasted-- it was like it was fingerprinted onto his own body. She wasn’t his first-- third actually, who’s counting?-- but the first one to really see him and for him to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he rang up the basics-- bread, peanut butter, milk, boxes of things that just needed boiled water to make, TV dinners, and sugar cereals-- he got the familiar side-eyed confusion as the middle age women working the register rang him up. Teenage boys did not do the grocery shopping in Sherwood, Ohio evidently. Especially not ones dressed in black with trench coats and boots. Side-eyed glances were better though than when one would coo, “how sweet to help out mom.” </span>
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  <span>When he got home that night his heart sunk. His old man’s car was in the driveway. Of course, the good times always came to a close. He walked in with barely a word, just plopping the grocery bags on the kitchen table to unpack and put away. He glanced in the trash to count how many empty cans were in it. Three so far. He heard the cap pop on the fourth-- or at least his fourth since he got home, it was hard to tell. Sometimes he'd do a round or two at the bar before coming home. His dad was in the living room watching the American league playoffs. He could hear the sportscaster calling the game from the kitchen. His dad wanted the Blue Jays to win since he hated the Bay area. Too many hippies running around, his dad thought, always protesting the demolition of anything. JD thought he must be the only man of his generation that got pissed every time "Big Yellow Taxi" came on the oldies station. JD had fond memories of their time in the Bay area honestly-- he liked reading in Golden Gate Park and the City Lights Bookstore was cool-- and was hoping the A’s did it. The area deserved a bridge series between the Giants and A’s. What bad could come of that?</span>
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  <span>JD sighed, he wasn’t in the mood for dealing with his dad. He had had an amazing weekend. He wanted to head back upstairs, read a bit and go to sleep-- not deal with his toxic father or watch him pass out on the couch with a can in his hand. He grabbed two of the Stouffers mac and cheese meals and put them in the microwave for their dinner anyway. Old habits die hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey dad, what’s for dinner?” His dad responded as he handed him the TV dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat up junior, it’s a part of a nutritionally balanced diet,” he responded sarcastically, placating his dad, as he shoveled the nuclear mac and cheese into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was the trip, pop?” His dad prompted. JD didn’t respond, not really caring. His dad told him anyway. Same old, same old: an historic crumbling hotel in Chicago, meetings, protests, dad won. Kerplooey. Another victory for the destruction of what was left of the American cultural past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, by the way, I found this on the couch.” It was a chunky plastic blue bracelet with large rhinestones on it. It was clearly a teenage girl’s bracelet. Veronica’s to be precise. Shit. He took it from him quickly, avoiding eye contact.</span>
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  <span>His father just chuckled and smirked knowingly as he sipped his beer, dinner over. “Good job. I was getting worried.” JD tried to keep his rage down as his dad clapped his back in some kind of male congratulations, harder than necessary. Veronica was beautiful and special. The idea of his father touching her bracelet somehow elicited some odd form of protection of her from him. He didn’t like the idea of his Dad infecting anything to do with her. </span>
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  <span>He cleaned up wordlessly and went to his room for the rest of the night. As he laid in bed Sunday night he twiddled the blue bangle in his hands thoughtlessly and remembered how nice it was to sleep with her body cuddled up to his. That night it troubled him to dream of his mom again.</span>
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  <span>Monday morning rolled around quickly. The dreams were troubling, but he pushed it out of his head. He usually dreaded going to school, debating if it was worth it to go or just ditch instead. Veronica would be there though, which made it worth it. Maybe he’d get her to ditch and drive around with him. He had to admit, his shitty car was one of the better things his dad has got him. That being said, his dad never missed an opportunity to remind him he had paid for it. He wished he could just get a job, so he could start paying his own way, but when you moved around so much, it was hard to convince anyone to hire a teenager knowing that training them would be a waste of time if they left in a few weeks or months.</span>
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  <span>On a more pleasant note, JD was glad the Chernabog that was Heather Chandler was nowhere to be found this Monday. As far as mean alpha girls at high schools went she was as dime a dozen as the rest and completely typical. He’d seen it enough to recognize the telltale habits: the cattiness, the pranks, the bullying of the weak to make them feel strong. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss he remembered from the dino rock song. He, for the most part, hated the soundtrack of his father’s youth, but he had to admit, The Who got one thing right: same shit, different day. The only thing that made all this particular high school’s war worse was seeing Veronica tangled up in it. She was better than it, even if she didn’t see it.</span>
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  <span>This girl. This girl was amazing. The only one who may have been as smart or-- hell, just admit it-- slightly smarter than him. She seemed to get it too, really get it. He had been to so many schools, so many states, and everyone was always the same but Veronica Sawyer of Sherwood, Ohio was an outlier. She was like a pop of color in a black and white world. He had seen</span>
  <em>
    <span> Wings of Desire</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the art house in Boston before they left in the summer. Meeting her reminded him of when Damiel the angel first laid eyes on the trapeze artist Marion-- her contorted body on the trapeze soaring through the air-- providing him the first real pop of color in his sterile black and white world. He figured in a small Midwestern town like this the movie never played at their local theater. He wanted to rent it for her. He had the oddest desire to know what she thought of it, if she had liked it as much as he had-- had seen the beauty in the poetry it was. Hell, even if she hated it he wanted to argue about it with her and end up making-out afterwards.</span>
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  <span>She knocked the breath out of him when he spotted her outside of school that morning talking to her friend. God, he realized, he was starting to get it-- all that corny shit in the books and movies. There had been too much time on his hands and he had consumed so much poetry, art films, and literature where damaged and beautiful artists talked of love, sex, and passion but now he got it. He had always chalked it up to them living in a time before penicillin, vaccines, or indoor plumbing, therefore death was most likely around the corner so better smoke it if you got it. But now? Jesus, he got it now when Yeats said, <em>"I would take the world, and break it into pieces in my hands, to see you smile, watching it crumble away… ”</em></span>
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  <span>She had potential, he realized. Not the way a guidance counselor would talk about “potential” but real potential. She was lovely and kind and when she touched him and told him she liked him and thought he was special-- </span>
  <span>Veronica could be everything to him and that both excited him and terrified him. He wasn’t used to… feeling much of anything and now he was feeling so much at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He believed Veronica when she said she was done with all of that bullshit and the cruelty of the popular crowd but he also remembered how Heather had dragged her out of the 7/11 just when the conversation had gotten good. He remembered that glare she had given him on the way out, as if to say, “she’s mine. I control her.” He also remembered how she had been that close to going to her house Saturday morning to try and do damage control. Jesus, what if she had? He had no idea what he would have done if he had a front row seat to watch that bully treat Veronica like chewing gum on the bottom of her shoe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one thing for Veronica to say she was done with Heather, it was another thing for it to be an actual fact. He wished this bitch gone, just gone, so he didn’t have to deal with this tug-o-war when it eventually began. He had meant it when he said he was going to protect her from all the monsters.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1979, Texas</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jason's mom was on her bed, sobbing, her hands in her head. She wished she knew how to leave, how she could take her son and go far away. “If you leave, you’re not taking him with you,” he promised her. Jason slipped into the room, seven years old, padding in in his footie pajamas with Evel Knievel on them. He had been hiding in his closet with his bear. His dad hated it and thought he was too old to still be clinging to a teddy bear. His mother told him to leave him alone-- if he wanted the bear where was the harm?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They argued, he yelled, she cried, and then he heard a slap and a slight scuffle. Typical Friday night at the Dean house. When he heard the yelling start he always hid in the closet, so his father couldn’t find him in case his rage turned to him. He wished he was bigger and braver, he’d be able to protect her better, he wouldn’t get scared and hide.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The little boy walked up to the woman. Her hair was slightly messy, her makeup running. She always liked to look so put together, it scared him when she didn’t even think about her looks. At the realization her son was in the room she tried to quickly wipe the tears away and pull herself together but it was impossible.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Baby, it’s okay. Jason, come here. He left for the night.” He walked over and she picked him up and put him on her lap and clutched him tight. “Where’s bear?” She asked, confused. He usually clung to it harder when he overheard the fighting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I threw it out Mommy. He can’t get mad at you about it anymore.” His lips quivered. It was a lot for a seven year old. He didn’t like seeing his mom cry or his dad mad, but he was also sad to lose his bear-- it was his favorite toy and he was seven after all. Toys still mattered. “But it’s okay. I fixed it. You-- you can stop crying now.” His own tears started, even though he tried so hard not to-- “boys don’t cry,” his dad had told him sternly once. His mother’s only response was to just weep more. It was that moment that she realized that all of it had affected him more than she had thought. It wasn’t just her he was hurting, but both of them. He was a kid who threw out his bear because he didn’t want to see his mom get hurt anymore. It was getting to be too much for her, she barely remembered what life was like before he started drinking more and his resentment growing. Her brain was starting to slip at times, the years of anger too much, and real depression had started to set in from it all. Just last week she couldn't even get out of bed, her heart hurt too much. She couldn't even smile when her son brought in lunch for her-- a Kraft singles cheese sandwich-- the only thing he knew how to make. This beautiful little boy in her arms… Jesus, he thought it was his job at age seven to protect her? Didn’t he realize she was supposed to protect him?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bare with me on the baseball stuff guys, I *really* miss baseball. The title is a Bruce Springsteen song.</p><p>Review and Kudos are nice, if you are so inclined.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Choose Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Heather Chandler wakes up to a brand new day.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! This is a bit shorter than I usually like to post, but it was all I could conjure for this interlude scene. </p><p>We will now take a visit to Heather Chandler's house on Saturday morning to see how she chooses to live her new life...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Saturday Morning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Chandler House </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The First Day of Heather Chandler’s New Chance at Life </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t hard to tell Heather Chandler’s mother on Saturday morning she wasn’t feeling well. After all, she always said that to get out of the trip to her grandma’s. Mother barely said a word to her. She just groaned and said no and her mother relented. Grandma was, well, a matron of a very particular variety. She was born in a time before Estee Lauder and wore her hair in buns and thought young ladies of standing should go to cotillions, date only from the families she deemed worthy, and marry well so they could gossip and be cruel behind closed doors like what was done in polite society. She had these awful Laura Ashley dresses she had to wear to deal with her, like she was still a pageant girl at seventeen. Even Mother and Daddy hated dealing with her. She was tiresome and crabby and made them drink rose tea. The trouble was, dear old grandmama controlled the purse strings in the Chandler family try as her daddy might to take them away. She only had so many get out of jail free cards left with the bat before she had to suck it up and pretend to like her to keep the trust fund full.</p><p>She woke back up around eleven tired, dehydrated, and feeling gross-- oh, that’s right, the party last night. Ram and Kurt did a keg stand that made everyone cheer, she and Heather Duke drank a whole bottle of peach schnapps… and that little ingrate Veronica Sawyer had destroyed a perfectly good prank against the fat loser she had planned and then spewed chunks on her $75 designer shoes.</p><p> “Where is that little shit?” She said, her hot water bottle on her head, nursing her hangover. She actually had to go downstairs to the kitchen and make her own prairie oyster like some kind of peasant. She had expected Miss Goody Two Shoes to be doing that for her, petrified of her wrath, and ready to get on her knees and beg to be back in her good graces. She would have made her of course and strung her along for as long as possible simply because she could but by Monday morning all would be forgiven and little Miss Sawyer would be back in her thrall, the collar around her neck tighter than ever. After all, she did have her uses. Between the forgeries and the homework to copy she'd pulled her weight. Besides, she always found that as a monarch it best to raise someone up herself as they tended to be more loyal afterwards than if they raised themselves up on their own.</p><p>Heather Chandler was confident in her standings and power of her grace. She was the Sun Queen of Westerberg and once you were in the glow of her circle everywhere else in the school was frozen by contrast. Veronica was welcome to her one bout of rebellion, but the reality was, as Heather Chandler said out loud on her bed, “I am the goddamn Mussolini of Westerberg and Veronica is going to roll over like the French in 1932.” Heather Chandler, ladies and gentleman, the B- student in European History.</p><p>Heather Chandler sat on the edge of her bed with her thigh master after she had recovered enough to start her work out routine. Her most pressing concern after this drama with Veronica was settled was keeping her away from that psycho kid she was obsessing over. It looks like it was reciprocated if that incident at the 7/11 was any indication. He had the gall to make a move on one of her inner circle. Who the fuck did Rebel Without a Clue in a trench coat think he was? Jack Nicholson? Christian friggin’ Slater? Veronica may have formerly been a loser, but she was one her inner circle now. She herself had made her the attractive commodity she was and any deviant she was with reflected back on her. Guys with no social credit did not put the moves on them without approval of her first. Heather had already decided that the best boy for Veronica to date was one that couldn’t challenge her much and would just do as Heather Chandler told him to do. It made things easier for her to control. Kurt Kelly was perfect for the job of de-virginizing the little pure flower. He would be grateful and easily biddable. The football players had their use from time to time.</p><p>Heather Duke was standing over her at about two o’clock with lunch from Denny’s. Good, Heather was always good with that. Like a good little minion she was, she always provided for her queen. She was exploding at the seams with some sort of information to share. Heather Chandler rolled her eyes-- tres lame, Heather, tres lame.</p><p>She opened her delivery and asked, “what’s with the smirk?” She pulled out her chicken Caesar salad with dressing on the side and french fries. She carefully started eating her salad as she always did-- dipping her fork in the dressing first then piercing the lettuce. </p><p>Duke just said, “You won’t believe who I ran into at Denny’s.” Heather Duke was savoring this little gossip and frankly Heather Chandler was not in the mood.</p><p>“Michelle Pfeffier? Fuck, I don’t know, just spit it out Heather.” Heather looked instantly deflated. Crossing her legs as she sat on Heather Chandler’s red chair in her room she told her.</p><p>“I saw Veronica with that freaky new kid-- JD-- at breakfast. And, yes, before you ask, she was wearing the same outfit she had on last night.”</p><p>Heather Chandler groaned-- of course that’s what happened. “Quelle surprise-- she clearly wanted Jesse James. Little slut, I guess that was inevitable.” In a fit of anger she just poured the rest of the dressing-- all 250 calories-- over the lettuce. She stabbed at the chicken and gobbled it up. This explained why the cunt wasn’t on her knees begging forgiveness. That psycho had put delusions of grandeur in her head.</p><p>“I’ll make sure everyone knows by Monday morning,” Heather Duke said eagerly. She had a particular knack for knowing exactly which three people to tell anything to make sure it spread like wildfire through the entire school.</p><p>“Hmmm…” Heather Chandler said. “It’s a start. But who’s going to care that much? I doubt she’d care if everyone knows they hooked up.” Heather chewed on her salad thoughtfully. “She’s probably proud of herself for that little coup. She wanted him and got him. Not that I think getting a high school boy is a terribly difficult endeavor.” Carefully the wheels in her head turned.</p><p>“Should have seen them,” Heather Duke said, laughing. “I think it’s true love,” she said, making exaggerated doe eyes and laughing. “They were playing footsies together and eating off each other's plates. It was disgustingly adorable. I almost vomited right then and there.” <em> Wouldn't be the first time you hurled at the Denny's, would it?  </em>Heather Chandler thought exceptionally cruelly to Heather Duke. </p><p>Duke’s laughter got harder until Heather Chandler cut her off, an epiphany occurring to her. “Actual love, huh? It would... crush her if he cheated on her then, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Duke looked surprised, but she knew enough when a new scheme was afoot.. “What’s the plan Heather? Lunchtime note?”</p><p>“Oh please. Think bigger Heather." She rubbed her hands together with glee. "It'll be easy too. I mean, he’ll get bored with that little soppy virgin quickly. She's easy, but not much after that.” The gears kept turning. “I could walk up to him in a mini-skirt and boots and make him an offer he can’t refuse and he'd be all over it in a New York Minute.”</p><p>“You want to sleep with Jason Dean?” Duke said, confused. “Guy’s a freak.”</p><p>“No, Heather! God, keep up! I want him to want to sleep with me. I want to watch Veronica’s sweet little heart break over the realization that he's just like all the rest of Westerberg's Y chromosomes. I want to watch her run to the girl’s room crying in a stall with her feet up so no one can find her because it’s clear he wants me and not her-- that she was just a dalliance, a choice of opportunity. I want her to write all of this down in her little diary. I want there to be tear stains in it. Then, I want to tell him to keep me in his spank bank because that’s as close as he could ever get, walk away from him with an unresolved stiff one and let him rot in some random corner alone with a book where he belongs. I want to destroy Veronica fully. She doesn’t get to have him to sit next to at lunch. She doesn’t get to have some <em>Sixteen</em> <em> Candles </em> moment of her teen life with him picking her up in his car to rescue her. God Heather! You think I want to sleep with high school boys?! Gross. I went to a Remmington party last week. Four guys at the Phi Beta house have my number and two of them call me to come over to give them blowjobs once a week. One of them even has a Mercedes. Jason Dean? Gross.”</p><p>Heather Duke teetered, her insides always twisted when Heather put her down. She already felt guilty about the two chocolate chip cookies she had earliar.</p><p>“So, you really want Veronica gone, huh? She did good work with forgeries.” Veronica was also quite useful for homework to copy and making sure her parents never got the notes sent home about the suspicious puking always heard from her stall in the bathroom.</p><p>“No Heather!” She rolled her eyes. Heather Duke was loyal but exasperating and super slow with the uptick. “I want to break her so I can rebuild her in my own image. I want to put her in her place. I want to see her heartbroken and upset and alone… and then I want her to come crawling back to me ready to follow every order I give without question. I want us to hug her and tell her that we totally sympathize-- 'oh yes Veronica, all men are dogs, aren't they?' Don't you get it? She can’t have some outlier rebel boyfriend hovering around that doesn’t seem to play by the rules and still be one of us.” She wanted this JD kid in his place as well, not that she’d say it out loud to Duke. Veronica, like everyone else at school, was hers to play with like a puppeteer pulling the strings. She didn’t like the way he looked at her in the 7/11, the way he leaned in and flirted with Veronica and managed to get her attention away from even remembering she was in the car waiting for her. And she really didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at her like she was unimportant. She was always the most important person in the room. At all times. Every guy wanted to fuck her. Everybody respected and bowed down to her. Boys like Jason Dean were dangerous anarchists, they filled little girls like Veronica’s heads with the belief that they didn’t have to fall in line. That they were "special."</p><p>The way he circumvented the entire system upset her. Taking on Kurt and Ram? They were football players, they deserved to do as they pleased so long as she told them what they pleased. She had decided Kurt could have Veronica to fuck so that he could stop bothering Heather Duke. Heather Duke if she played her cards right would start going to Remington parties with her and take some of her leftovers. This was her plan since Veronica was promoted to her big leagues. It was all very calculated. Who did this kid think he was to openly flirt and go after one of her girls? Losers like him did not have the standing to so much as make eye contact with her royal handmaidens.</p><p>She decided who Veronica was going to date and socialize with. Just like, she decided who Heather McNamara dated and socialized with and who Heather Duke dated and socialized with. When you’re a jet you’re a jet for life. She gave the orders and ruled the school with an iron fist. She needed to restore order at Westerberg. Veronica was hers to play with and Jason Dean should be a loser in the corner who jerked off dreaming about her at night. That’s the way it should always be.</p><p>The plan was set. “I’m going to take Monday as a personal day off. Make her stew just a bit. Make sure everyone knows they’re together and without me there they’ll probably act all cuddly and cutesy so the whole school can see.”  Her smile turned cruel. She hoped they held hands in the halls, kissed at her locker, and shared a fucking Carnation milk with two straws at lunch like an Archie comic book. The higher and happier she was, the harder the fall when she destroyed her.</p><p>“Oh,” Duke asked, eager to begin the plan. “Shouldn’t we call Heather to come over?” Heather McNamara. She was quickly getting to be a pain as well for other reasons.</p><p>“Don’t tell Heather about this plan yet. She’s… ugh, I think she actually likes Veronica, like she’s a person and she’s been a bit of a loose canon lately. She’s been seriously damaged lately. You know I caught her eyeing that kid in your yearbook group that takes the pictures?” Heather Chandler was disgusted by Heather Mac’s behavior. Duke scrunched her nose and thought.</p><p>“Chinese Delivery Kyle?” She said, aghast. “I mean, he has weed on him most of the time and shares, but like, that’s it. That’s all that he’s got going for him.”</p><p>“Not the point Heather! I wasn’t asking your opinion on the dweeb. Heather McNamara is the head cheerleader. She has to be with a football player. Ram is perfect for her. He’s easily biddable and she opens her legs for him easily to keep him placated and in line.” Heather McNamara was a lemming at the end of the day and like any other good lemming she is easily course corrected. “Look, we can deal with her later. For now, yes, spread the rumor of her and the psycho kid hooking up, make sure the entire school knows they’re a little couple.” She finished her salad and settled back on the bed. She opened up her to-go box of french fries feeling worthy of a little binge treat as a reward for all her hard scheming. Of course Duke would forget. “Heather? The gravy? You don’t expect me to eat these french fries bare, do you?” Heather Duke leapt up and grabbed the plastic cup of gravy from the bag keeping her mouth shut as to how utterly disgusting and heinous it was to drizzle that over perfectly delightful french fries.<br/><br/>“Oh, sorry Heather. Here you go.” Heather Chandler just shook her head in disgust. Heather Duke really was a trial. One more slip up and she'd reconsider her invite to the frat party.</p><p>That was how Heather Chandler spent her Saturday after the Homecoming party. She spent it scheming and bitching. It would never occur to her to make better use of her time or to appreciate the new day any different. Of course she had no idea what had happened to her in the original course of events. She had no idea of the Drain-O down the throat and the tragic loss of the beautiful American teen-- the fact that she had been deified later on would have ever so delighted her. One would think that getting a gift of life like this would be precious but Heather Chandler was-- and always would be-- oblivious to the gifts in her very blessed life she had been given.</p><p>Each day of life is a gift, but some people would never know it. Heather Chandler would always be one of those people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sands Through the Hour Glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica has a talk with Martha and meets JD's dad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Please bear with me, these next few chapters will be the hardest to break. But, I think if I give it a few days to work with each one they will come out good. Trust me, there's a chapter written coming up I think you all will love that came out of me when I first broke this and am so proud of. I just know I have to lay some bricks down before it. I really love the feedback and am glad to know people are reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Back to Monday Afternoon... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about?” JD asked. He had been referring, of course, to Heather’s M’s abduction of her to the bathroom. JD asked this as they snuck out of the school to his car to hit the 7/11 for lunch quickly. Veronica insisted on being back by 6th period though. He wanted to ditch the rest of the day but she said it was important. “I thought they wanted you gone.” Veronica just shook her head, amazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, no, well, yes? I- I mean I’m sure Heather Chandler does and Duke just does whatever Heather wants but.. Heather McNamara? She’s not like the rest. I think… I think we’re actual friends,” she said, taking one of his hands while the other was at the wheel. “Wouldn’t that be something?” She asked JD, beaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only good Heather is a dead Heather if you ask me,” JD muttered, unconvinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not funny,” she responded, dropping his hand and a pit growing in her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I don’t understand. I’ve been here for over three weeks and I’ve seen her join in with every catty laugh and mean prank. She wasn’t exactly stepping up with you to stop that mean note prank on your friend Martha.” Veronica bit her lip, it was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the other two aren’t around her to push and make her act like that she’s funny and sweet. I think- I think she’s just scared? Scared to speak up for herself? I don’t know.” She remembered the first time around with Heather M. The bathroom. The pills. Her admissions. Heather M was definitely on her list of people to save, people to make sure they came around better and without the trauma of the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so then the other two Heathers are the evil ones, not her?” He countered her argument, the pit still fuming in her stomach. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Can we just not talk about it anymore?” She asked as he parked the car. She didn’t get it. When it was just the two of them things were… great. He was funny, charming, and made her feel special. She made him smile and laugh. That whole weekend they had been good together, really good. She was </span>
  <span>realizing she may be even more head over heels this time around, not having experienced this much of JD before the death and chaos consumed both of them. Just her and him, two normal teenagers falling in love. She was a greedy little thing and she wanted more though. She wanted it to never end. She thought one weekend would be enough at least, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except… Why did there have to be little moments like this creeping up to remind her what JD was capable of if pushed in the wrong direction? To remind her that there was the real possibility that he’d allow his anger to consume him and drive them apart? To drive himself mad? JD had choices to make soon. Very real and dark choices. She was scared. Scared they may not be the right ones. He was capable of anger and of falling into the pit of psychosis. If they were both not careful it could lead to the two of them to fight over a gun in a boiler room with a bomb ticking-- a bomb that he planted. Oh god, she hated knowing that could still very well be a possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone changed on a dime, seeing her upset. He smiled and leaned over to kiss her, the whole thing forgotten. “Sorry,” he stroked her cheek with his thumb until she couldn’t help but smile. “Cherry, right?” He asked, remembering her flavor of choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cherry,” she agreed as he went in to grab the slushies, chips, and Starbursts-- Pink and red’s for her, orange and yellows for him. She leaned out the window after him. “Oh! Grab an extra lime one!” He looked back at her perplexed. “You’ll see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got back to campus Veronica grabbed him by the arm and pulled him quickly over to her 6th period class, excited to let him in on the best secret at Westerberg High. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Moore was kind of the only decent teacher at Westerberg. He always marked everyone present without looking and had candy in his drawers at all times. One of the AV kids had managed to hook up an antenna to one of the school’s two TV’s so they could watch Days of Our Lives during the period. Mr. Moore loved his three hour block of Santa Barbara, Days of Our Lives, and Another World. Veronica lamented she only got the period when Days was on. In her opinion this made him the best teacher at school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and JD slipped into the classroom with little notice-- particularly amazing since he wasn’t technically in this class. She walked up to Mr. Moore-- who was riveted-- and handed him the slush. He took a grateful sip. “This is why you get straight A’s Miss Sawyer.” She beamed back at the praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I miss?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shane’s still in the diner, with amnesia, but he looked at his watch and is having flashbacks to his real life back in Salem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally! Could they drag this out any longer?” Veronica said. “I just want Shane and Kimberly back together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but honestly I still miss the old Roman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I know, this new guy’s the worst.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD looked back and forth from Mr. Moore to his girlfriend. “This is why you needed to rush back for sixth period?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, Days of Our Lives is important.” They settled onto the desks in front of the television as the other kids in the class either talked quietly or did their homework in peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During a commercial-- less he be shushed-- he asked in dazed confusion, “and you have straight A’s?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhuh,” she nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you actively choose to fill your head with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up, it’s fun and crazily addictive. Trust me, you come to this study hall for sixth period everyday and tell me you’re not hooked.” Her smile dazzled him and he knew that he would, if nothing just to watch her. She whispered in his ear, “I’ll forge you a transfer paper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are something,” he said. He stared at her enthralled by the plot on TV vaguely aware he should be in his own sixth period study hall class but with very little desire to do so. She liked sharing her weekday soap opera addiction with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s heart cramped for a moment as a commercial for Drain-O that promised to declog as well as deodorize. In it an overly chipper woman got ready for a date in the span of time it took the declogger to work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It didn’t happen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she reminded herself. She wondered if she’d ever be comfortable around Drain-O again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day progressed quite normally, Veronica realized to her relief. The Monday morning she was supposed to be frozen solid and decimated by Heather Chandler ended up being a great Monday. Yes, the rumor mill swirled about her and JD but, like, it was pretty much old news by lunchtime. After all, so what? Besides, Timothy Laster and Courtney White ended up breaking up super messily and loudly in the quad during lunch so any other gossip was old news by then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seized her heart greatly. So all this time it would have been fine? It would have been fine if she hadn’t rushed off in a panic to Heather’s that Saturday morning? She had to compose herself. That’s why she was here now-- to fix her mistakes, to make it better. To make right, what once went wrong,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As three o'clock rolled around JD found her and grabbed her hand to pull her to his car. “Wait, there’s something I need to do really quick." She stopped him and spotted Martha at the bus stop waiting. It was now or never. He saw her looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell her?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’ve got no choice.” He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait for you in my car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a heavy heart she made her way over to her best friend since before either of them understood the concept of best friends. A random memory of the two of them at the public pool in the fifth grade singing “Tell Me More” from Grease and practicing diving popped into her head. It made it all seem so much harder. She knew. She knew a lot, but looking at Martha in this moment. It made it harder still. </span>
  <span>She remembered Martha going to college in Wisconsin the first time around. She had gotten better, in any timeline Martha Dunstock would get better. Veronica wasn’t satisfied with better though, she wanted the best for her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Martha,” Veronica said. Martha was startled to see her. Veronica hadn’t taken the bus since she started hanging out with the Heathers. Heather Chandler had a car after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey.” She looked at her and then back towards the car where JD was waiting for her. Martha looked down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess she’s got a ride to and from school now with him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martha missed seeing Veronica on the bus. She missed having someone save her a seat. Now she sat in the front, where no one wanted to sit, alone. She made chit chat with the bus driver. Not that Joe wasn’t nice-- his wife just had twins and they were beautiful-- but she couldn’t help but feel a little pang. She had thought if one of them had a boyfriend with a car they’d automatically make them drive the other. Martha had thought they were a matching pair. If you got one, you got the other no matter what.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Can we talk?” Veronica nervously fiddled with the drawstring on her pullover. It had started getting chillier and she wished she’d brought her jacket to school that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to miss the bus Veronica.” Veronica was quick to amend the fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m riding with JD, he can drop you off.” Martha looked nervously back to JD’s junky car and saw him in the driver’s seat waiting with a book. Kids started piling onto the bus and if Martha didn’t get on now she’d have to walk. She still didn’t like the idea of her friend with a guy like that. She felt uncharitable though. If Veronica liked him, surely it would be nice to get to know him? Then make a snap decision? At the very least see up close if he was weird to her or mean or… whatever? Besides, Martha’s heart did swell at the idea that maybe she wasn’t far off-- maybe Veronica was seeing them as the matching pair she remembered them being. “Please?” Veronica pleaded. Martha nodded and stepped to the side so the other kids could get on. Veronica grabbed her hand and led her to a part of the school where no one was at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something… there’s something I need to tell you. About the note from Ram and the party…” Do or die, she realized. Now or never. </span>
  <span>She confessed. To everything. The note, the lying to her… the prank that was planned. “I’m sorry. Please believe me when I say I’m sorry. It was cruel and nasty and I should have stood up for you and I didn’t. There’s no excuse in the world that I can say to make up for it. Please believe me when I tell you I’m sorry.” Veronica's eyes watered. Martha. She needed to make more than right by her-- she needed to make better.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Martha stood there and listened to every word Veronica-- her best friend, the girl who made up a dance routine to Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” with her the other summer-- had to say and slowly started crying. This was the last thing she had expected to hear from her best friend. And her heart? It broke. It broke into more pieces than any puzzle she had ever made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I was worried about you,” Martha whispered, in shock, as tears spilled down her cheeks and her hands shook in a strange mix of anger and sorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martha--” Veronica reached for her hands, but Martha stepped away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Martha whispered. Veronica's empathy revved up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry, so, so, so sorry. Please believe me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were my best friend." Martha looked at her, really looked at her, as if she had never truly seen her before. "My best friend." She choked as the tears pored down. "We had best friend necklaces at eight. The kind with hearts that didn't quite match when you tried to put them together. We made friendship bracelets at twelve to match each other.” Martha felt her breath hitch and the floor fall from her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martha, you’re better than Ram. Better than Heather Chandler. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We- we promised to tell each other everything. We were going to be two little old biddies in the nursing home together playing canasta and watching movies.” Martha was shaking, and openly crying now, the hurt more real than anything else she had ever felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica reached out and grabbed her hand. “Just because he doesn’t like you the way you like him doesn’t make you unworthy. It makes him unworthy for not seeing how amazing you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She backed away from Veronica, forcibly. “I don’t- I don’t know you anymore Veronica. Don’t call me or talk to me.” She let loose a sob and turned around. Martha’s heart was always on her sleeve and it crushed Veronica to see her hurt like this. Especially when she had played a part in it.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Wait, please. I said we would give you a ride.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m walking. I… could use the exercise.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Martha, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you run off back to your scary new boyfriend?!" Martha hissed, suddenly in a different tone than Veronica had ever heard. "I hope you two are happy!” Veronica stopped stunned, She had never heard Martha snap like that in her life-- either of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears sprung into Veronica’s eyes as she watched her best friend since before either of them could remember walk away from her. It took everything inside her to remember that what she had done was for the good. There were no deaths this time, no suspicions of murder. History wouldn’t repeat itself and the chain of events was broken. Martha would be okay and she deserved to know the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a minute to pull herself together and walk back to JD, who was waiting in his car for her. She opened the door and slid in still in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” He asked. She turned to him and shrugged. She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his fingers through his hair and nudged her. “It was right to do, I think. It’s better she finds out now then later and in front of the others.” Veronica stared ahead, not sure. </span>
  <span>“Hey," he asked, smiling at her with that crooked smile that she loved. "Come on over, no one’s home. We can watch some TV or something, sound good?” Dejected, she nodded. She shook her head free of the cobwebs and tried to smile at him. He sounded so sincere. A flash memory of her fearing he might kill Martha if she suspected-- that was a different life though and a different set of circumstances. That was after he had seen Heather’s “suicide” and had murdered Kurt and Ram out of a bizarre mix of humiliation and retaliation on both their parts. This JD was sitting next to her and he didn’t have any reason to hurt her or anyone else for that matter. She was changing things, she reminded herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started the car and pulled out of the high school’s lot. She took his free hand, kissed it, and he smiled as he drove her towards his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was about 3:30 when they there. A strange sense of deja vu hit her as she remembered being there watching television the Monday afternoon the first time around. She sighed, the fall out with Martha was hard but ultimately things were better already. Heather Duke wasn’t going to be all over the 6:00 News relishing in Heather’s death at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled onto his couch with his arm around her and her body cuddled up next to his as they channel surfed. His arms were so warm. “I love that no matter which broadcasting area I move to there is always an hour block of M*A*S*H* on at 4:00 in the afternoon,” he observed, flipping the channels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yuck, turn it, my dad watches reruns of that.” He flipped the clicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rerun of Hogan’s Heroes?” He asked.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ah yes, Nazi prisoner of war camp… but funny!” He laughed as they left it on. She was still ruminating on her best-- ex, now-- friend’s mental health but being in his arms was making it hard to focus on, well, anything else than his thumb gently stroking her forearm. Partway through the episode they both lost track of the very intricate plot involving Hogan leading some mission behind Klink’s back. She had turned her head and brushed her lips against his with a small smile. He returned the kiss and started to shift his position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go up to my room?” He asked as he delicately played with the edge of her shirt’s top button, grazing the skin of her chest that was exposed from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a quiet plea to lose herself in his arms as solace she said, “Yes.” Unfortunately just on that note, they heard the rattle on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” JD swore, the mood completely shifted, “he’s home early,” he muttered mostly to himself. Quickly they both broke apart on the couch and JD stood up. The space he put between them was palpable. JD’s whole tone and demeanor changed in a heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad was home. Big Bud Dean was back from work. Veronica’s heart sunk. She knew he was a jerk the first time around and she wasn’t keen on a second meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Young man,” JD said flatly. “I didn’t hear you come in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father walked into the living room and plopped his case of Coors on the recliner next to the TV. He eyed the young lady sitting on his couch and Veronica instantly felt uncomfortable. She suddenly felt like her mini-skirt was too short and tugged it down a bit. Had she not noticed the way his eyes raked up and down her body the last time-- or first time-- they had met? Either way, he was definitely doing it now. She swallowed awkwardly and noticed JD tensing up. She realized a moment too late that JD had already undone the top button of her blouse and quickly she fixed it-- not before his dad had noticed though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gee dad,” he piped, not taking his eyes off of Veronica. “I want to introduce you to my girlfriend.” She kept her eyes on JD. His whole body seemed forelorne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, my dad, Big Bud Dean.” He tensed. His dad took the empty seat next to Veronica. Close. A little to close. JD’s eyes narrowed as he finished. “Dad... Veronica.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, nice to finally meet you.” His eyes uncomfortably raked over her. “Hey, pop, can my little friend stay for supper?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just about to drive her home, actually.” JD grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad, some other time, then,” he responded. Veronica grabbed her bag and they headed to the door. “So..." JD's dad asked with a smirk. "You get that pretty blue bracelet back?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost forcefully JD pulled Veronica out the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time. He’s usually home a lot later,” he said as they slid into the car.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she replied, sympathetically. “That’s your dad?” She asked carefully. She knew, but still. He turned the engine on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my dad,” He repeated back to her, albeit resigned. He reached over and opened the glove compartment. He handed her the blue bracelet she had left behind over the weekend. It suddenly clicked in her head what his father had meant. Her cheeks flushed. “Oh,” she thought. “He knows I was over when he was away for the weekend and assumes…” Her eyes closed in embarrassment. He assumes what any parent would assume in that situation. She knew it wasn’t a normal relationship JD had with his dad, and she knew that he hated him. She was also embarrassed-- and he was to-- to have his dad really understand the nature of their relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, sorry, I forgot to give this back to you today,” he said quietly. She quickly took it back from him. She knew his father’s knowledge of the nature of their relationship upset him as much as it did her.</span>
</p><p>"Thank you. I didn't even realize I left it. I'm sorry." He turned to her before he pulled out of the driveway.</p><p>"Don't be. You did nothing wrong."</p><p>
  <span>He drove her back to her house quietly. He stopped two blocks away, like he did last time. “JD?” She said, when they stopped. “Pull up in front.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” He asked, nervously. She turned to him. If this was going to work, she realized, she wanted her parents to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He did what she asked, nervously. She turned to look at her house, the nice one with two parents inside, a nice dinner waiting for her and then to him. She knew he didn'</span>
  <span>t have those things but she loved him anyway. She hoped he understood that she'd never hold the sins of his father against him. “Today was nice,” she said. He leaned over and kissed her, simply. It took her body a moment to accept a nice goodbye kiss-- after all less than an hour before she thought there would be more-- but she did and leaned into it nicely. When they parted she simply patted him on the chest. “I like you a lot,” she simply said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” he responded. They both knew what had transpired between her meeting his dad was weird but they also knew it didn't matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time she got home it was five. Mom was home. “Hey honey, who’s car was that that dropped you off?” Her mother asked carefully. Her mother didn't like to push into Veronica's life, but still-- that was not a car she had seen usually dropping her daughter off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, a friend,” was all she said. Mom looked at her carefully. She was used to Heather Chandler dropping her off lately, but that was about it. Her mom had seen it was a boy driving but she was never the intrusive parent. She let it go at that, after all it was still before dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD and her parents. Yuck, it was a conversation they had never had. It was strange. Her parents had really never known about their relationship the first time. She was determined that that would be different. Still, though, now wasn’t the time. Soon, but not now. She shook her head. First things first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dragged the phone extension into her room. Mom was used to it by now and just shook her head. Veronica had asked many times for her own phone line or at least an extension in her room to no avail throughout her teen phone talking years-- so this is what she had been forced to do since ascending to an age where phone calls were important and long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart stung as she remembered all the times she pulled the phone to her room to watch Dynasty and Falcon Crest with Martha, not even talking during it, but making comments and observations during commercials. It was enough just to know the other friend was there watching and gasping together at any revelation during the episode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering Martha-- also knowing she shouldn’t-- she dialed the numbers she had dialed a million times during her childhood. A phone number she could live to be a hundred and never forget. She knew Martha didn’t want to talk to her, but she also knew she had to check on her and see if everything was okay. Her memory was raw knowing that if the circumstances were a bit different Martha might do something unfortunate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” A woman on the other end picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Mrs. Dunstock. It’s, um, me,” she paused. Veronica had called so many times in her life to the Dunstock residence. Now though she suddenly felt like a stranger to her best friend’s own family. “Veronica I mean. Is Martha there?” There was a pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica,” the voice said tensely. “I think it’s best you don’t call. Martha came home earlier upset. She- she told me some things about you. I don’t think she wants to talk right now. And I agree to be honest.” Veronica winced at her best friend’s mom’s sheer disappointment in her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to make sure she got home okay. I understand. Um, Mrs. Dunstock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made a mistake. I did. I’m trying to fix all my mistakes right now, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman sighed. “Veronica, you need to give her time, okay?”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Okay,” she responded. “Have a good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.” She hung up the phone and sighed both in relief-- Martha was home with her mom to look out for her. It sucked, but she knew it would be a while before she could regain what she lost. If she ever could. The important thing was Martha knew the truth and was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica picked up the phone to make her second hard phone call of the night. Tentatively she dialed the numbers she remembered so clearly. If her memory of her former life were accurate then someone would be in the office until 7 PM. She swallowed. The person on the other end picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Becket’s office, how may I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, um, my name is Veronica Sawyer. I'm calling on behalf of a friend. I was hoping Dr. Beckett was available for a new patient?” Veronica hoped god, time, fate, whatever power gave her this chance was with her for this very important call.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I want you all to know that I tracked down an episode from fall of 1989 of Days of Our Lives to watch JUST for that two second joke. THAT'S my commitment to this story in these trying pandemic times. Also... I now REALLY want to watch the entire run of Days from 1985 to 2006. UGH. Here's hoping the new NBC pay service puts them on it, lolz. Anyway, comment/kudo... only if you want. I do appreciate them. Thanks so much for all the ones so far.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Heather Chandler Memorial Lunch Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica and JD go to school.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the bit of wait. So... this was originally a 30 page chapter... now broken into three separate updates. That being said since they're all mostly written I'll probably have chapter 9 up tomorrow night and 10 the following since those are pretty much done and just need a polish and look over. This part may be a bit of some brick work though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Veronica  was surprised how easy it was to set up the appointment. Especially given that she wasn’t a parent, and JD wasn’t technically 18 yet. Veronica Sawyer was pushy though and knew how to answer all the questions correctly and necessary in order to convince the receptionist it was okay for her to make the appointment for him. When all was said and done she had secured an appointment with her former life’s mentor for one Jason Dean to meet for a preliminary appointment to talk to in two weeks.</p><p>Securing the appointment, paying the bill, and getting the paperwork signed would be the easy part-- all JD had to do was grab his dad’s checkbook and she could easily forge his signature on the checks as well as on the paperwork. She should feel guilty-- as that was all really, really illegal-- but somehow she couldn’t muster up any proper guilt for it. Honestly, the least JD’s father owed his son was to pay some therapy bills, even unbeknownst. What was he going to do? Call the cops? Tell them his kid and girlfriend stole his checkbook and committed check fraud to pay for a therapist? JD had told her he was the one who managed paying the bills-- so something told her Bud Dean wasn’t exactly watching his checking account and balancing his checkbook on a regular basis. Considering in their last lifetime she had forged suicide notes to cover up murder, a little check fraud seemed to weigh a bit less on her soul in terms of criminal activity. </p><p>The tricky part was going to be getting JD to agree to this plan. She still had no way to bring the suggestion up.</p><p>She woke up Tuesday and bounced downstairs to see her mother and father at their kitchen table. Veronica reached into the cupboard to grab her usual breakfast and placed her Pop Tarts in the toaster. “Morning guys,” Veronica said to her folks as she packed her bag up.</p><p>“Morning honey,” her mom said from her coffee cup.</p><p>“Morning peanut,” her dad called from behind the Chicago Sun Times.</p><p>She got her things together as the tarts popped out of the toaster. Her mom got up and wrapped them in a paper towel for her and she grabbed an apple and banana from the fruit bowl in the center of the table, reaching over her dad’s newspaper.</p><p>
  <em> Honk honk. </em>
</p><p>It was JD’s Car. “Shoot, that’s my lift to school. Gotta motor.”</p><p>Her father put the paper down to glance out the window. He saw the junky black car and the vague outline of the young man at the wheel. He took special note of the fact that it was a young man. “Whose car is that?” Her father asked, inquisitively. “Heather has a red car. That’s not your friend Heather.”</p><p>“That’s the same boy that dropped you off yesterday, isn’t it?” Her mother asked, equally inquisitive.</p><p>“Um, yeah. It’s my friend,” she paused. “JD.” Quicky she stuffed her things in her bag and put her arms through her jean jacket.</p><p>“JD?” Her dad asked suspiciously. Bill Sawyer was not a fan of boys honking to get the attention of his daughter as opposed to getting out and ringing the doorbell. He also didn’t like names with strange initials. Especially when said nickname also stood for the popular slang of his youth, “juvenile delinquent.” He coughed, “that’s his full name?”</p><p>“Jason. His name’s Jason Dean. He just started this year.” <em>Oh, all the better,</em> Mr. Sawyer thought, uncharitably. It was only a few syllables removed from James Dean, the original Rebel Without a Cause problem boy.</p><p>“Are we going to meet this friend?” Her mom asked with a mixture of curiosity and worry. She wasn’t as clueless as her daughter thought she was, she knew boys didn’t pick up girls for rides to and from school this regularly without it implying other things. “Is he your, um, regular ride now?” Her mother asked carefully, trying to ask if this was a boy that’s a friend or a “boyfriend.”</p><p>Veronica had never brought a boy home before-- in any lifetime-- and she had no framework for how this may go down. Sure, when she was sixteen her mom had insisted on Veronica going on The Pill “just in case”-- much to Veronica’s embarrassment that she had no one to be on it for-- but being confronted with the reality of her daughter and boys wasn’t the same as the abstract concept of it. </p><p>Veronica didn’t answer her.</p><p>“Why are you taking extra fruit and Pop Tarts?” Her father asked, through slanted eyes. He had realized she had grabbed the apple and another package for JD. Veronica had not seen much in the way of breakfast goods in his home when she had been there and had grabbed it for him not wanting him to wait until lunch. “If he would like breakfast he can come in and introduce himself properly,” her father huffed.</p><p>“Dad, c’mon, I’ve got to go. I’ll probably be back late after school, okay? Love you! Bye!” She grabbed her things and ran outside her house barely pausing to wait for her parent’s reaction. As much as she had decided she wanted to let JD into all of her life this time around, she still hadn’t navigated the tricky part of letting the boy into her whole life. Her parents had never met a “boyfriend” in any manner of her life and she had no idea how’d they’d react or how to approach it.</p><p>She slid into JD’s car and leaned over to kiss him quickly before he sped off. This exchange was not lost on her mother, who was watching from the kitchen window. “Bill,” Mrs. Sawyer said with a mixture of surprise and suspicion, “she has a boyfriend.” Her father had stood up to try and take a look through the window. He caught a glimpse of a long trench coat, and messy brown hair of this boy kissing his daughter before he sped off-- a bit too fast for his comfort. He could also hear the tape playing in his car stereo. It was loud, fast, and he thought he heard a swear word. <em> So this is the boy, </em>he thought perplexed by the thought of it.</p><p>“Apple or banana?” Veronica asked as she handed him the strawberry Pop Tart and held up the fruit.</p><p>“You brought me breakfast?” He asked, surprised but touched.</p><p>“Did you have any?” She was munching on her own Pop Tart.</p><p>“No,” he admitted. If was always hungry in the mornings he’d swing by the McDonald’s drive-thru for breakfast sandwiches if he had time, but here was Veronica Sawyer with fruit and toaster pastries. “Apple,” he answered her, grabbing it. He ate it with the other hand on the wheel as he turned the corner towards the school and she peeled her own banana.</p><p>His mouth quirked as he realized she cared enough to bring him food. Veronica Sawyer was definitely the most incredible warm wind to ever blow through his cold life.</p><p>They walked into school holding hands-- a bold move for any fresh couple to make. She looked around for Martha and saw her at her locker getting her stuff together. Veronica wished she could talk to her but she was certain now that Martha wasn't in the same place she had been the first time around and knew she had to wait to let her make the first move in re-building any friendship they may have again.</p><p>Tuesday saw the return of Heather Chandler to the hallowed halls of Westerberg High School. She walked through them with Heather MacNamera and Heather Duke in tow as if it were pre-ordained by God. </p><p>There she was, Veronica saw. Heather Chandler: tall, blonde, in a perfectly coordinated outfit and walking like the air should apologize for getting in her way. She was a bitch, no doubt, and lived to make others feel like garbage… but she was alive and she was not the poster girl for a young life snuffed too early by depression like the teenage Veronika Voss of suburban middle America the media and school had made her to be last time around. It made Veronica feel guilty that for whatever reason she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. </p><p>JD was at her locker with her as the three walked up to them. She had been getting her books out as he leaned with his back against the next locker with his arms crossed making her laugh about something stupid. This was going to be interesting.</p><p>“Très fantastique Veronica. I just couldn’t believe it when I heard about the two of you.” She smiled at Veronica in that way she had seen Heather smile so many times before. It wasn’t genuine and usually meant she was planning something. JD remained silent as he looked the queen bee up and down and casually dismissed her and put a possessive arm around Veronica’s waist as if to let Heather Chandler know Veronica wasn’t hers to play with anymore. Veronica could have been mistaken but she saw a veil of confusion pass over Heather’s face over it. She quickly discarded it.</p><p>Veronica’s goal was to have Heather Chandler out of both of their lives: alive, but not involved for both their moral character and sanities. Neither of them may have premeditatedly murdered her the first time around but to put all the blame on JD for Heather’s death and cover up would lack a lot of self-examination Veronica had had time to do. She was just as culpable and capable of murdering Heather Chandler as JD was.</p><p>“Um. Yeah. About the party-”</p><p>“Party? Oh gosh, yeah, pretty wild huh? Don’t remember a lot towards the end it was so crazy.” Veronica tried to catch Heather M’s eye but she just stared ahead, following her marching orders from her best friend.</p><p>“Really?” That was a load of malarkey. What was Heather Chandler planning? Yuck, she didn’t want to have to deal with this. <em> Heather Chandler </em> , she thought, <em> please stop making me regret I didn’t help accidentally kill you and fake your suicide. </em></p><p>“Anyway, see you in the caf. <em> Ciao. </em>”</p><p>As the lip-gloss gestapo left Veronica looked stunned and JD looked bored.</p><p>“I have no idea what that was about,” Veronica said.</p><p>“Man, Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die,” JD said lightly.</p><p>“Stop it, okay?” She grumbled. “How many times have I told you I don’t like that kind of talk?” </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry. Okay?” He turned her head with his fingers lightly and her face softened at his sly smile as he kissed her. Veronica instantly softened.</p><p>“Besides, trust me, killing Heather Chandler is like killing a president. They instantly get martyred. I don’t want to drive down the George Bush Memorial Parkway anymore than I wish to eat lunch in the Heather Chandler Memorial lunchroom.” This at least got a chuckle out of him.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he mused nonchalantly.</p><p>Over on the other side of the hall had Kurt and Ram loudly joking about some female conquest together. For Veronica seeing Kurt and Ram alive lifted a lot of guilt on her soul for the violent way they had been snuffed out. She thought it would be for the best if she and JD just steered as clear away from them as possible for all their sake. Veronica went off to her homeroom class and JD went to get something from his own locker.</p><p>That's when he saw Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney messing with some kid in the halls. His name was Jeff, if he remembered correctly, and he was in his chemistry class. He sat next to him and by virtue of the rules of high school chemistry, who you sat next to was always your partner. They didn’t talk except when necessary and he was quiet. He was being picked on by them simply because they could. He was weak, nerdy, wore glasses, and would always have his D&amp;D guide and notebook out to make up maps and story notes.</p><p>“Hey, little queer,” Kurt said knocking his notebook out of his hands.</p><p>“Hey, j-j-just quit it guys, okay?” Jeff’s whole body seized up and went into a cocoon. It was exactly the reaction the two meatheads wanted. JD’s eyes followed the exchange. He guessed getting their asses handed to them the other day did little to deter them from picking on those weaker than them. If anything their humiliation needed to be avenged by attacking the more sure fire targets.</p><p>“Heard about your make-out session with your little boyfriend the other night, you suck each other’s cocks off yet?” Ram asked him in a mocking tone and grabbing his arm to painfully twist it behind his back. Jeff’s face twisted in agony as he gasped. Guys like Kurt and Ram had no right to live and be held up like gods, JD surmised. "Say I'm a fag and I'll let go!" Kurt laughed as he backed his buddy up.</p><p>"Okay... you're a fag!" He retorted in anger, the only self defense he could muster. JD admired it. Unfortunately, that one sign of resistance and strength wasn't enough to deter the two bullies.</p><p>Kurt, on the other hand, used it as an excuse to punch him in the gut and cause his glasses to fall off. "Hey! Say it right!" JD walked past them in the hall as they were tormenting the kid and lightly bumped into Kurt. Kurt let go of Jeff almost immediately, recognizing the coat and tall frame of the dude who had handed them their asses the other day.</p><p>Jeff grabbed his glasses that had fallen, his book, and notebooks as soon as he was let go by the brain dead jocks. He barely looked up at JD as he skedaddled out of the situation. He barely had any time to register what had just transpired-- flight having taken over where fight had already not. Kurt and Ram just stared at JD not sure how to proceed. JD just stared blankly at the two of them in the eye like you would a wild dog. “Come on man,” Ram said to his buddy as they got spooked by him.</p><p>“This isn’t over between us, got it… man?” Kurt emphasized the “man” by bumping into JD’s shoulder. JD just stared at him and shook his head before walking to his own homeroom class, leaving Kurt and Ram to stew in their own hurt pride. JD realized that that one fight in the cafeteria hadn’t been enough, something more was brewing and it might not be avoidable and his own pride was just as easily bruised as theirs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comment and Kudo if you like-- once again shout out to anyone reading, kudo-ing, and especially commenting, they really mean a lot and knowing there are some people reading and looking forward to more is what really makes it impossible to quit writing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Haunted By the Ghost (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD shows Veronica something cool.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! The title and the song quoted are a Pogues (feat. Cait O'Riordan) song from the Sid and Nancy: Love Kills soundtrack which I found apropos. Something about this story is making me needle drop a lot, thanks for understanding. I hope it's not too pretentious. This is a little later than I promised but that's because I'm a perfectionist and knew I needed to move some things around here and there and add a scene or two... anyway whenever I think I'm just "polishing" I end up realizing I need to add so much and re-write a lot of sentences... anyway, I dislike the idea of not releasing anything I'm totally on board with and proud of. This and the next chapter should be all one, but it just got too long so I broke them into a "part 1" and "part 2." The last half is a moment I've been conceiving of since this story started. Hope you enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> The first time I saw you<br/></em> <em>Standing in the street<br/></em> <em>You were so cool<br/></em> <em>You could have put out Vietnam<br/></em> <em>My girlfriends ask me, what's he like<br/></em> <em>I say, he's kind of shy,<br/></em> <em>But that's the kind of girl I am<br/></em> <em>He's my kind of guy<br/></em> <em>I want to be haunted by the ghost...<br/></em> <em>Of your precious love</em></p><p>
  <em> -The Pogues (Haunted) </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Texas, 1981 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jason was in the passenger seat of his mom’s old Dodge wearing his Batman shirt and jeans, nine years old. He hoped they’d be home in time to watch the re-run of the Adam West Batman that airs in the late afternoon, he loved watching Batman and Robin beat up the bad guys and make the world safe from them. The car radio was on and playing the Bee Gee’s song from Grease. Jason mildly sang along and was sad mommy didn’t either. She liked that song, they had sung it together a lot after they saw the movie. She had taken him to see that movie when he was seven. He didn’t like a lot of the girl stuff, but he thought the cars were cool and Mom liked the songs and dancing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then again, mommy hadn’t sang or danced for a while now. He remembered when she’d play records and show him how to mash potato or twist. If he was really lucky she’d show him the more complex routines, the ones she used to do at auditions to be on Broadway. She told him she had auditioned for Bob Fosse once to be in the dance corp for Pippin. He still had no idea why she never got any of those big parts she always told him she auditioned for. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had missed that Mom. There were so many days she wouldn’t even get out of bed. When it was one of her “quiet days"-- as he called them-- he would get home from school and he would open the cookie jar and take two out: one for him and one for her. He’d bring them up to her in bed and they’d eat them together quietly. Sometimes he’d tell her a joke that would get her to at least smile a little. Most of the time though he’d go back to the living room and watch TV until dad got home. Dad would get mad at her for not having gotten dressed that day and a pit would grow in his stomach. Sometimes, if Dad was mad enough he’d yell at him and grip his arm-- hard. It no longer scared him like it did when he was younger, it now made him mad. It would make him mad that he was two little to do anything about it. He hated that he couldn’t fight back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Today was exciting. She was up! She was driving him to dad’s work to watch a building come down. Dad was even in a nice mood, he promised him it would be cool and they would get pizza afterwards. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned to him and smiled, the oddest look on her face. She hadn’t looked this calm or peaceful in a long time. He was glad of it. “Jason, baby, I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She smiled serenely at him. He made a face. He was nine, “beautiful” was for girls. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Moooom," he brushed it off. She laughed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her baby boy. He deserved so much more. He deserved a strong mother, one who could pick him up and go far away from the mess her marriage had become. He deserved one who loved him enough to be able to get up out of bed everyday and fight back for him and wasn't such a burden to him. He took care of her, she saw. The way he'd make her lunch and sit with her. She even realized he was starting to act out to his father. It took awhile but she realized he was doing it to divert his anger away from her and onto him. She should be taking care of him, not the other way around. She was useless to him now, and she’d seen how much it hurt him to watch her get this way. She wished for the husband she had married and the happy family she had wanted. That man was long gone and her family was broken. She had made her decision and it was for the best, she realized. The burden on her sweet boy’s small shoulders would be gone soon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When they arrived at the site she told him to sit on the bench and wait. Jason was still so short that his legs dangled over the side. She leaned down to kiss him. “Ew, yuck mom!” He hooted back at her, making sure no one else saw. He didn't mind it, really, but not in public. He was nine now and didn’t want anyone to see his mom fuss over him like a baby.  </em>
</p><p><em> "Dad’s right over there,” she pointed to the demolition crew preparing to blast. He saw his dad clapping the other guys on the back getting ready to blow it. He was going to press the button, he loved to be the one with that kind of power and he loved watching things be destroyed. </em> Good, <em> she thought, </em> it was only fitting. <em> She handed her son her purse. The letters were in there. One for her husband and one for Jason when he was old enough to understand fully. “Hold mommy’s purse?” He did so. </em></p><p><em> She saw the library. A faint memory of story times with her son there when it was still opened floated in front of her eyes. She loved reading with him. He always had so many questions about the stories, so many insightful ones, and he demanded more and more of them. She wiped a tear and smiled as she recalled reading </em> Charlotte's Web <em> to him in that library, her arms wrapped around him and him in her lap. He loved the story so much he didn’t mind that there were few pictures. The sun was beaming and it was warm, but not dreadfully hot. She was glad it wasn’t raining and the sun beat down on her face as she walked straight past any warning signs and into the library. A fog drifted over her whole mind as she did so and everything became very clear and right. She could hear music in her head and without even thinking her body responded to the familiar notes. She remembered being on the stage getting a final callback for Mary Magdalene for </em> Jesus Christ Superstar <em> . “I don't know how to love him. What to do, how to move him. I've been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days, when I've seen myself. I seem like someone else…”  She sang quietly as her feet moved. She saw her little boy from the window. He was so beautiful, this little boy she made. She smiled and waved. </em></p><hr/><p>Fall, 1989</p><p>The rest of the week went by like that, with JD picking Veronica up to school, taking her to the 7/11 during lunch-- it was wonderful to escape the gauntlet that was the Westerberg cafeteria-- and Veronica generally trying to avoid any interactions with any of the bullies of her high school. They were alive, that’s all that mattered. They were still out there torturing the student body, but alive. Throughout the week Veronica would see Martha and think about making an attempt to talk, but she was rebuffed each time. Martha needed time and so long as she wasn’t upset enough to do anything regrettable Veronica was happy. Still though, she missed her and wanted to be friends again.</p><p>Speaking of friends, Veronica found herself with Heather McNamera in the bathroom chatting before the bell for lunch period, having secured them pretty good hall passes. It was curious to Veronica, since their talk on Monday she had seen Heather M look more like she was getting rather tired of the whole alpha clique thing. Veronica would love it if she could break apart from the crowd without the mental breakdown of the first time.</p><p>“So," she asked making eye contact in the mirror. "It looks pretty hot and heavy with you and our resident Matt Dillon over here.” Heather was fluffing her hair and laughing. She held up two tubes of lip gloss--one a pinkish and the other a deeper red-- for Veronica’s opinion. Veronica pointed at the pink and Heather nodded and re-applied the gloss.</p><p>“It’s been… good. Really good.” Veronica blushed. “I gave him some of my books he’d never read and he gave me some comics and tapes I hadn’t.”</p><p>“Books? Tapes?" Heather looked desperate. "Ver-on-ica! Those are not the saucy details I want. He has his own car for crying out loud! Have you, you know-ed,” she winked, “in the back seat yet?”</p><p>“Heather!” Veronica gasped. “Um… not yet,” she stuttered.</p><p>“Yet? So you will?"<br/><br/>"Probably," Veronica mumbled, still bubbling with joy that she and JD might be a normal couple.</p><p>"Oh god, you’re blushing! Oh, it’s serious, isn’t it?” Heather smiled at Veronica happily as she fiddled with her long necklace. “Well," Heather said affecting a teacher's voice. "As hot as a backseat can be, make sure you don’t wear pants. Skirts are a lot easier to access. It gets cramped, and it’s hard enough to get his off let alone yours. Also, button down rather than having to lift your shirt over your head. Last time I didn’t do that it was a hell of a time with the cramped space to pull my shirt off. Oh! And if you want to blow him-- it's really simple in the car too. You just lean over.” The guru hath spoken.</p><p>“Thanks for the tips,” Veronica said laughing, as if she wasn't taking mental notes for the eventuality. Heather smiled, knowing her advice was gold.<br/><br/>“Ugh, the lunchroom is totally not as fun without you Veronica,” she said forlornly. Veronica half smiled at her. “I liked when you’d make a joke that no one-- including me-- would get and Heather would get annoyed about.” Veronica smiled. "I like seeing Heather get a little annoyed," Heather M grumbled under her breath. Veronica's ears perked up over the sound of descent in the ranks.</p><p>“I miss you too. You know, you could always-- and stop me if this sounds crazy-- come with us to the 7/11 or McDonald’s drive-thru or whatever for lunch if you want. It’s not hard to sneak off campus for lunch. Worse comes to worst I'll forge a parent's note or something.”<br/><br/>“But Heather would-”</p><p>“Oh my god, fuck Heather Chandler! I’m telling you right now this week has been amazing and I’ve barely had contact with her. In fact, not having contact with her has been apart of what has made it amazing." It was true, eerie, but true. Heather Chandler had barely said a word to her since Tuesday. It was so utterly freeing. Also scary, she shouldn't have been this free from her wrath but Heather M over here had sworn she'd heard of no pranks or anything and she realized she trusted her like, well, a real friend now.</p><p>“We’ve been best friends since middle school though…” Heather M said to her, twisting the gloss in the tube around nervously.</p><p>“Yeah, but if she were you’re good friend wouldn’t she be standing next to me cheering you on too?” Heather didn't answer, but she knew the truth.</p><p>“Ask him out for tonight? What if he has plans already? It is date night,” Heather said making excuses. Veronica snorted. She doubted Kyle Miller wouldn’t drop plans with his own mother to date Heather McNamera that night. “And, it’s not official, but I usually hook up with Ram sometimes on Friday nights.”<br/><br/>“Any plans tonight?”</p><p>“No….”</p><p>“Are you and Ram official? Seems like he wants to bone anything in a skirt if he could.”</p><p>“True…”</p><p>“Then do it. Trust me. Do it. Dooooo it.”</p><p>She laughed and shook, almost nervously. “Is this that peer pressure thing the health teacher’s always going on about?” </p><p>“Yes. I’m pressuring you to ask a guy out you like and may have fun with. Would you just choose life already and do it?” Veronica beamed at her, and held up two thumbs. This Heather McNamera could be a far cry from the one that she found trying to pry a child proof lock off of sleeping pills in this very girl’s room if she could just break away from the herd.</p><p>Heather looked in the mirror and straightened her red and white uniform, a yellow pendant around her neck. She started to twist back and forth to check out her backside in the micro mini. “I look cute, right?” She asked.</p><p>“You always look cute Heather," Veronica swatted her away. It was true. Heather M could show up to school in a burlap sack and it would still make her butt look good. "Cuter than cute even, but yes, exceptionally so now.” She put her things away and took Veronica’s hand they walked out into the hallways of Westerberg High. The bell had just rung for lunch and students piled out of classrooms and towards the lunch room.</p><p>There was Kyle Miller, manual camera strung around his neck, outside the yearbook office, with a yellow and orange 70s strap. Luckilly, Heather D and Heather C were nowhere to be found to scare Heather M away. Veronica squeezed her friend’s hand and smiled as she broke away. Her palms had been sweaty. Veronica couldn’t believe Heather McNamera-- a Heather of the Westerberg Heathers for crying out loud!-- was nervous to ask a boy she liked out.</p><p>Veronica leaned against the lockers and watched in fascination as Heather McNamera walked up to yearbook photographer slash Chinese delivery guy Kyle Miller and started talking to him. He looked like a deer in the headlights, poor guy. Heather M was a battering hammer he never expected in his life. Veronica smiled as she continued to play with her necklace and watch the scene unfurl. It was stunning, Heather McNamera was asking him out. </p><p>JD spotted Veronica and walked up to her. He slung his arm around her waist, pulling her in lightly, and kissed the top of her head. “What’s all this?” JD asked. He saw what she was looking at. His eyes narrowed. “Yuck, are they pranking that poor kid now?” He asked when he saw Heather smile and blush-- actually get bashful!-- as she asked him to get pizza with her that night.</p><p>“No, no she’s not. She’s asking him out. For real” Veronica watched the exchange carefully.</p><p>“Seriously?” JD asked, looking at his girlfriend in shock. “Not to prank him?”<br/><br/>“Why would anyone prank Kyle? No one has beef with him.”<br/><br/>“What did you--?” JD looked at Veronica Sawyer carefully considering her. He thought he had everything figured out. High schools were all the same and he’d seen so many to know it’s true. The same people everywhere. Things always go down the same. Veronica Sawyer though. She was different than anyone he had ever known. A girl that went from nobody to somebody and now… a post-somebody who he couldn’t define at all.</p><p>“Just told her that she’d be happier dating a guy she actually liked instead of one she was supposed to like.” He stared back and forth as the stunned boy nodded his head gratefully at Heather and she smiled loving that he had said yes.</p><p>“Where did you come from Veronica Sawyer?”<em>What the hell?  </em>Veronica thought as she felt it. It was like a change had occurred, and Veronica could feel it ripple through her own self. It was like the timeline, the course of events, everything had started to shift. She stared at Heather M's and Kyle's interaction as they agreed to their date, than back to JD's surprised face. She kissed his cheek. Anything was possible, she realized. Everything was coming up roses.</p><hr/><p>JD and Veronica had ditched last period and drove back to his house. It was empty and they had been making eyes at each other when they got back from lunch. She had been floating high on her victory in the war to make right what once went wrong and JD was simply enraptured by her ability to beat his expectations.</p><p>He also wanted to get to his house early, giving them the maximum amount of time alone without his father interrupting them. Fire had gone through him the other day when he saw the way he looked at her and the way he had clearly made her uncomfortable. <em> What gave him the right to do that?  </em>He thought, trying to control his anger. It was one thing to torment him, but he didn’t have the right to upset her. </p><p>They got into the car and drove off. He needed to push thoughts of his father out of his head. Right now he just wanted to lose himself in her. She was his. Only his. She was the part of his world that his father could never take away from him or destroy not if he could help it. Veronica was even better than a Slurpee when it came to making him forget how awful his father was and even more addicting. The sugar rush from her lips and body made his eyes dilate and his heart race harder than anything else in this world. He rested his hand on Veronica's stockinged knee, and gently stroked her inner thigh with his thumb, inching up ever so slightly. Veronica rewarded this touch by her cheeks flushing red, smiling at him… and slightly parting her legs in suggestion. That was all he needed for his own spark to light inside of him.</p><p>Veronica's whole body lit up when he touched her and she had never forgotten how goddamn good it felt to be touched by him, and after her win today she thought anything was possible. She still had to figure out the right way to bring up the appointment, but she was more confident than ever that she could do it.</p><p>He pulled her into his house and slammed the door shut by pushing her up against it and pressing his mouth to hers urgently. She squealed in delight. Being here, like this, in his arms felt like heaven. It was exciting and thrilling to give in so completely to this passion, it was like being high or drunk, the sense of not being in control was scary but addictive. She broke from his kiss to talk-- he just used it as an excuse to move to her neck-- he quickly un-tucked and un-buttoned her blouse and his hands started to wander to her more soft and round bits. “Are we alone? What about--” she let loose some noise that was a cross between a squeak and a sigh as he gently squeezed her breast and stroked her nipple over her bra with his thumb… to say nothing about what his teeth were doing to the tender skin of her neck. God, she had been wanting to do this all day. “What about your dad?” She gasped, herself caring less and less by the second in favor of what his hands and mouth were doing.</p><p>“You’re so goddamn sexy. His car’s not here. A blast site in Akron. He’ll be late,” he murmured inaudibly, listing his top priority clearly. He also knew on Fridays after a blast he usually stopped at a bar with his crew for a few rounds which added to the time it took for him to get home.</p><p>“Um, date," she vaguely remembered. "You, uh…” She bit off her words as his other hand slid up her skirt and gently stroked her between her legs causing whole body to quake and hum. “We were going to go to the movies tonight.”</p><p>"Can we just…tomorrow night? Pizza and movies are still there tomorrow.” She instantly forgot about the movies and turned her head, grabbing him by the ears and pulling him back to her lips. She broke the kiss, leaving a stunned and dazed look on his face.</p><p>"That works for me," she echoed of their first time. She quite enjoyed that he could seduce her just as well as she had seduced him. She squealed as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her to his room.</p><p>After their most basic needs of connection had been met they had settled into a more comfortable lounging position. She was lying on her back with her head on his lap in one of his black t-shirts as he sat up with his back to the wall, his fingers in her hair and her legs hanging off the side of the bed at her knees with only his boxers for modesty's sake. </p><p>He had a twin bed, which made it a little cramped for two people, but it was comfortable enough. More likely, they liked cuddling close enough to ignore the smallness of the bed. She had put the soundtrack to Sid and Nancy in his tape deck and were listening to Cait O’Riddion and The Pogues sing “Haunted” as she was reading one of his Hellblazer comics-- she was really amazed at how dark and adult the stories were-- about John Constantine, while the back of his fingers gently stroked her cheek and hair. She was engrossed-- and the similarities of Constantine and JD's “look” were not lost on her. Seeing it, she’d love to know what JD looked like in a white shirt and tie with his own coat. He studied her face trying to decipher what she thought of the story. He liked watching her read. It all felt… normal. Strangely normal and right for the two of them to be like this together.</p><p>“Next one?” She asked as she finished up reading the letters column. She enjoyed knowing what other people thought of the previous stories she had read. She had no idea that comics did that, and loved it. How often had she read something that no one else she knew in real life had read and was desperate to know what someone-- anyone!-- had thought? It was like they weren’t all alone. Out there in the rest of the world other people were reading what they were reading. It made her feel connected and less like a weirdo in a strange way.</p><p>“That was the last issue I have,” he told her, pleased that she had liked it, he knew she would. She pouted, annoyed about waiting for the next one. </p><p>“Where are we going to get more of them?”</p><p>“We can drive up to Cincinnati, ought to be a shop up there.” He traced the angles along her face, and gently touched her soft lips causing her eyes to flutter shut before moving down her jaw to her neck. She was delighting in his tenderness after the rush of need of earlier. </p><p>“I love these,” she said honestly. “I had no idea there were comics like this out here. Last time I even looked at a comic book was with my ex-boyfriend.”</p><p>“Ex-boyfriend? Thought I was your first and only.” He said it lightly, but a pang of jealousy did hit him momentarily at the idea of another guy’s hands on her.</p><p>“Ha. It was 8th grade. Jeff Ryan. And by boyfriend I mean he took me to the 8th grade semi-formal, one sorta date where I watched him play Dragon’s Lair at the arcade, and he got a couple of no-tongue kisses out of me where we had about four feet of space between the rest of our bodies. He was so nervous about that stuff,” they laughed at the memory of youth. “I sat in his room and let him lecture me about Spider-Man and Star Wars a few times. I tried playing D&amp;D with his friends but got super bored doing all the math. And they made fun of me for wanting to make my character a half-elf princess for the drama of it and wanting to just tell a fun story, not throw dice at each other. Oh! And one time… he accidentally went to second base.” She said proudly.</p><p>“How do you accidentally grope a chick?” He asked, laughing. He felt silly being jealous of the guy now, it so clearly meant nothing to either of them. Besides, she was in his arms now and not that long ago he had been inside her listening to her moan his name and tell him how good he felt. She was his. </p><p>Her face got red and she slapped her face to cover her eyes at the ludicrous nature of the story. “He went to grab something out of my arms and he ever so lightly grazed the side of one.” He laughed. “I had just gotten them and I was barely used to having them it shocked me. He went bright red when he realized what he did, I swear!”</p><p>“I certainly didn’t make that mistake.” He leaned down and kissed her. “First time I groped you you grabbed my hand and specifically placed it there.” She nudged him playfully. "Wait. Jeff Ryan? Short, sandy blond hair, always wears a Nintendo Power shirt? They call him D&amp;D Jeff?"</p><p>"Yeah, why?"</p><p>"I think he's my lab partner." She laughed at the coincidence. It was a small school though. He remembered the nerdy kid Ram and Kurt were pounding on the other day. D&amp;D Jeff everyone called him not sure if that was an insult or not. The next day in chem they didn't comment on the fight at all and just went through the motions of the lab. JD had seen the kid in the hallways a lot and he got the impression honestly that he was-- well, that his nervousness around girls that Veronica had shared may not have chalked up to just youth and inexperience. He could have been wrong, of course, but he'd been to so many schools, some more metropolitan than this one, and met guys like that before. He noticed so many interactions. He could always be wrong, he supposed but if it were true... it made him even more angry at the favorite chosen hurtful words guys like Kurt and Ram liked to use on the guys they bullied.</p><p>"Really? Well, don't get all weird on him now that you know of his scandalous behavior to me in our tender youth," she said lightly but not lightly. </p><p>"Don't worry, I won't," he said laughing. "I will try to avoid a jealous rage of a guy that sort of got to second base with you by accident." She laughed and nudged him, teasing.</p><p>“Who was yours?” She asked, suddenly wanting to know. She told him hers, after all.</p><p>“My what?” He asked, pretending to be confused.</p><p>“First kiss or girlfriend or whatever. I mean, I know I’m not, that I’m not--” She knew it, knew she probably wasn’t the first girl he’d ever been with sexually, and didn’t mind it in theory-- hell, one of them had to know what they were doing-- but it didn’t mean she liked to hear about it in actuality. “I know I wasn’t the first girl you ever… had… um… in bed." She bit her lip, she wanted so desperately to sound grown up and cosmopolitan about it but honestly--</p><p>“You’re the only one that's mattered,” he said, relieving her a bit. It was true, there'd been a couple of girls, but everything about Veronica otherwise was a first.</p><p>"Kiss though," she said determined. "I definitely want to hear this story."</p><p>“Seventh grade.” He conjured up the memory in his head.</p><p>“Seventh? Impressively young,” she replied, wanting to hear everything about the young middle school hussy who stole his first kiss.</p><p>“We were in… god... Baton Rouge? Austin? No, sorry, Poughkeepsie." He shook his head, remembering. "Wow, how do you mix those up?” Her heart tugged as it always did about his vagabond life. “I was the new kid, like usual. Her name… was… Jan? Jane? Janie?” He struggled to remember it, there were just so many schools and so few names that stuck. “Something like that.”</p><p>“You don’t remember?” Veronica asked, surprised.</p><p>“We weren’t there long, gone in less than a month and I never saw her again.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she said, meaning it. “What happened though?”</p><p>“Went to a party randomly in her basement. I don’t know. I was ‘new’ and maybe that meant different and exciting to her. She invited me and I was bored and went. Figured there’d be pizza or chips or something. And there were!” Most girls that showed an interest in him felt like that about him. New, different, gone quickly-- zero repercussions to their lives. Sometimes he accepted it because, well, why not? That is until Veronica. He could feel it, she wanted him to have a huge repercussion in her life and she was far more than just a circumstance of opportunity or physical curiosity. Much more than that. “Anyway, the bottle landed on me and the rest was history.”</p><p>“Spin the bottle? Really?” She asked incredulous of how cliche it kind of was. He snorted.</p><p>“Seven Minutes in Heaven actually.” She laughed. “She tried to act like she’d done everything, but I think it was her first kiss too. We kissed a little in the other room that was set up for it-- I think her parents were upstairs as this all went down in her basement strangely--" he remembered hearing the TV from upstairs of a Mary Tyler Moore show underneath Prince's <em>Purple Rain </em>on tape she had on. "She tried to stick her tongue in my mouth but she didn’t really know how.” He didn't really either but he didn't want to say that to Veronica. He shrugged. “She smelled overwhelmingly of fake strawberry.” That smell, it almost made him gag just remembering it. He remembered not knowing what to do with his hands the whole time. He hadn’t thought of this memory in a long time.</p><p>“Ah, yes… Strawberry Shortcake Shampoo! I remember it from middle school well.” He laughed.</p><p>“She made up some story afterwards that I... went further to sound ‘cool’" he made the quote marks with his hands and rolled his eyes, "I guess, but I didn’t. She was a little boring to be honest. She liked Huey Lewis and the News's <em>Sports </em>album a lot if that means anything and I was already way too cool for that shit." They laughed. "Anyway, it didn’t matter, I was gone quickly so she got her story and I got mine.” She took his hand and squeezed it then brought it to her lips and kissed it. She smiled at him. She was special. Really special. No other girl had been before.</p><p>"I like hearing your stories," she told him, honestly. They had had so little time to do this last time around. She loved hearing him open up and talk to her. SHe just needed to work up the courage about the appointment. <em>Now or never, </em>she thought as his smile got coy.</p><p>“Hey, wanna see something cool?” The moment had passed unfortunately and she yielded to his suggestion. </p><p>“Um, okay.” He’d been wanting to do this for a while and now was as good a time. Intrigued, she nodded. Who didn’t want to see something cool after all? He got up and pulled on his clothes and she followed suit, trading his shirt for her blouse and carefully folding it and straightening out his laundry pile. He stared strangely at her random touch of domesticity.</p><p>"Sorry, my mom trained me too well." He smiled and grabbed her hand.</p><p>She followed him to his dad’s office. She felt weird being in there but JD didn’t seem to think going through his dad’s stuff was a big deal. She didn’t like the guy-- greatly disliked verging on hate-- but still felt strange violating someone’s personal room like that. Filing cabinets, messy paperwork, and boxes of more papers littered the “office.” It wasn’t her idea of what an “office” should be-- no chairs or phone or Rolodex-- just stacks of things that were mostly still in packing boxes. She had no idea how he ran a business like he did like this way-- moving constantly, everything a mess-- then again, she wasn’t an expert on how any business worked. </p><p>Her heart stopped in her throat. There was a lot of… his father’s work components in here too, just lying around. Wires, C4... Images of a Norwegian in a cellar hooked up to thermals… She felt cold all of a sudden. She dropped his hand, the warmth of even his touch having left her. “You’re dad just leaves this out like this?” She asked him referring to the dangerous materials. Her throat was dry. He shrugged nonchalantly as if everyone's house had demolition grade explosive materials lying around. “I just, um, thought that stuff would be at a warehouse or under lock and key or something.”</p><p>“Honestly, explosives aren’t hard to come by or to make. Any middle schooler could make a nuclear bomb for their science fair if they could get their hands on any nuclear material and simple explosives are all pretty easy to buy in any hardware store. I could blow up the school with the contents of the chem lab if I wanted to.” He smiled, but started at how serious and pale her face looked when he said that.</p><p>“It was a joke, Veronica. No plans for that at the moment.” He laughed but she didn’t respond, her heart thumping in her throat.</p><p>Finally, he pulled out a mahogany unlocked box inside a large moving box. She recognized that box all right and her breathing stopped. As he opened it and she felt the floor give out underneath her feet and the room spin.</p><p>Guns. He was showing her his dad’s guns. The same guns that in another life…</p><p>
  <em> Woah, are those real? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, but we’re filling them with ich luge bullets. </em>
</p><p>“Oh my god,” she breathed. That was no toy that was--</p><p>
  <em> Bang.  </em>
</p><p>“Pretty cool, huh? They’re nice, I think. My granddad left them to us. I’m no collector but I know they’re not KMart brand or anything.” She was motionless. He picked one up and aimed it at the wall. “I like to practice with soda cans out back sometimes,” he said like a kid who was showing off his cool new bike.</p><p>
  <em> Bang bang. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You stay here, I’ll get him. </em>
</p><p>“They’re just, like, out there like that? Randomly in some box in his office?” Her throat was dry and she felt clutched a stack of boxes finding it harder to stand up right. Veronica couldn’t comprehend anyone leaving guns out like that, not even in a cabinet or a locked box. She knew he had access but to have such easy access...</p><p>
  <em> Get off the fence! Get off the damn fence! </em>
</p><p>Her throat went tight and she hugged her body trying desperately not to feel too cold. Before the original events with JD she had little to no experience with guns. Her dad never owned one, and she once heard her grandfather mention having fired one in World War Two-- but never wanting to again. She didn’t even know anyone that hunted. </p><p>Regardless, seeing JD’s dad’s pistols out like that… Oh god, JD didn’t even have to sneak to get any of that stuff. None of it was even in a cupboard locked up... how could this all have been so easy for him?</p><p>“Not a big deal Veronica. A lot of people have firearms. I was born in Texas for godsakes.” He was so confused, he thought she'd think it as cool as he did. He loved holding the gun, loved loading it, cleaning it, pointing it and hearing the satisfying smash of a bottle when he hit one just perfect.</p><p>“I don’t like guns.” <em> What was happening? </em> She thought. Five minutes ago they were cuddling half naked on his bed reading comics and exchanging stories. Earlier in the day she felt change with Heather M. She and JD were laughing, kissing, reading comics, talking, and being god damn normal! Now he was showing off firearms to her like they were no big deal.</p><p>“C’mon, they’re cool, like watch,” he grabbed the bullets and opened the chamber to start loading the pistol causing more panic and bile to rise in her throat. “We can go out back and shoot bottles or something." He nudged her playfully. "Wanna try?” He smirked and eyed her up and down with the charming crooked grin that usually got her panties in a twist. “I’ll show you how.” Images of wrapping his arms around her and helping her aim it-- his breath in her ear telling her how, her body sparking under his with the adrenaline rush that came from firing a round-- danced through his head getting him, if he was truthful, a little turned on.</p><p>Very different images danced through her head.</p><p>
  <em> Was it good for you? Because it was terrible for me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck did you do? </em>
</p><p>“C’mon, you chicken?” He asked, with that crooked smile and leaning in trying to goad and tease her. Her face went white. </p><p>“None of this is funny!” She was getting upset, very upset and her hands were shaking. He just looked confused, not understanding why she didn’t think it was as cool as he did.</p><p>“Veronica, why are you freaking out? I’ve been playing with these for years.”</p><p>She shook her head in disbelief. She must look like a maniac to him, but she wasn’t sure how’d she’d react not knowing that in another life, another slightly altered chain of events, he had shot two boys in cold blood and accidentally shot himself. “They’re not toys!”</p><p>She walked out of the office and straight to the door to grab her coat and purse she had left there earlier when they had sauntered in too preoccupied to hang them up nicely. She headed straight out the door all the while he called after her, “Veronica?! Jesus, why are you mad?! What did I do?!”</p><p>She got home later barely noticing the colder temperature and the long walk-- 35 whole minutes-- and blew past her parents, not wanting them to see her upset. She barely touched her dinner her mom had made. It had been her favorite-- spaghetti, lots of oregano. Dad asked her if she was all right-- secretly excited because he did not see that boy drop her off-- but she didn’t know how to respond. She just made some excuses about homework and schoolwork being stressful and went to bed without even watching a smidge of TV. She sat on her bed chewing her nail, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was she going to do about this?</p><p>The guns. The guns and explosives in his house. Things had changed. It wasn’t inevitable. What did that movie say? The one that boys think is an action film when it’s really an epic tragic romance? <em> The future is not set. </em> But seeing the guns and explosives so criminally easy for him to access… <em>100% legal</em>, she groaned. She had fallen so much harder for him this time. She had gotten more time with him, had more fun, felt more than she had last time. She really thought she had a handle on all of it. How did she wrestle these two images of JD in her brain? On the one hand he could be so fun and exciting. He was smart, funny, charming and made her feel so special-- on the other, he had the power to scare her when he let his anger and destructive side bubble to the surface or show her how callous he was about weapons of death.</p><p>What was she going to do?</p><hr/><p><em> I'll build my world around you<br/></em> <em>I'll bless the day that I found you<br/></em> <em>I'll stand beside you, I'll never leave<br/></em> <em>Or tell you all those lies<br/></em> <em>that you'd never believe...</em><br/><em>I want to be haunted by the ghost<br/></em> <em>Of your precious love</em></p><p>
  <em> -The Pogues (Haunted) </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ugh, the dramaz. Anyway, comments and kudos are appreciated. A special shout out to everyone who has already. Thank you all so much, it's great to have feedback and to know the hard work is appreciated. :P</p><p>Also, erm... on a quick whim I kind of wrote a pretty steamy one-shot based on that line of how JD thinks it'd be sexy to show Veronica how to fire a gun set in regular continuity in the middle of "Our Love is God." A little embarrassed to post it, but...?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Into My Arms (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD and Veronica have a late night chat.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My apologies for taking longer with the update than I originally promised. This was hard for me to concentrate on this week. I'm going to try and keep updates to at longest weekly but I don't want to make promises I can't keep for now. Thanks for the understanding and thanks for the reading. As I've repeatedly said, I will not abandon this story for you guys and I want to maintain a high quality in the writing. I really appreciate everyone reading and commenting. I've been really touched by you guys that routinely leave comments and that a lot of them are long ones. </p><p>The title and song quoted is Nick Cave's "Into My Arms" as I thought it had good parallels to both JD/Veronica and to JD and his relationship with his mom. It randomly hit up on my spotify when I started writing this part and I ended up listening to it on loop and watching the video over and over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>I don't believe in an interventionist God<br/>
But I know, darling, that you do<br/>
But if I did, I would kneel down and ask Him<br/>
Not to intervene when it came to you<br/>
Oh, not to touch a hair on your head<br/>
Leave you as you are<br/>
If he felt he had to direct you<br/>
Then direct you into my arms<br/>
Into my arms, oh Lord</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>-Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Into My Arms)</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Texas, 1981</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jason! Jason! It was an accident! Jason, okay? An accident. That’s what happened.” His father’s eyes were frantic. Jason stared ahead at the demolished site, unable to get the image of his mother’s smile and wave out of his head. “Jason? Listen to me? Can you hear me?” His father’s voice broke as he kept staring at the demolished building. His father cupped his head with his hands-- it was one of the few moments of Jason’s life his father had ever touched him in tenderness-- and for the briefest of moments a tear came from his eye as what sounded like a cross between a sob and a choke emanated from the grown man’s body. “Baby? Look at me?” His father never called him "baby." Only his mother called him that. But Jason couldn’t look at his father or comprehend the rare show of affection or tenderness. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the former library. His father picked him up and cradled him in his arms but he still kept staring in shock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>How could it have been an accident? </span><em><span>Jason thought.</span></em> <em><span>She knew the library was going to blow, that’s why they came down today. She wasn’t an idiot. She had done it on purpose. She was gone now. Gone forever. She left him. </span><span>It didn’t make sense to him, why would she leave him all alone? </span></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few days later he was wearing a jacket and tie. He had never worn a jacket and tie before. He hated ties. They clung to his neck and choked them like the nooses he had seen in those old west movies and shows. There wasn’t an open casket-- how could there have been, given how she had died?-- just an urn, flowers, and a picture of his mom at the altar in the funeral home. In it she was impossibly young and at the beach, her hair flying in the wind, and her sunglasses on. She held up two fingers, for peace symbol, her other hand was trying in vane to clear her hair from her face as the wind blew it in all directions. She wore a fringe vest and a halter top underneath. It was taken before Jason was born and he didn’t recognize the woman in the picture. That wasn’t his mommy in her demure outfits and impeccable hair. Not the one who sit lay in bed with him at night and read long books without pictures to him. His father had picked the photo out. He didn't even ask Jason what he thought. He had no idea why he picked that one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hadn’t spoken since that day at the library. He looked up at his father. He knew he had been drinking earlier. He wasn’t very drunk, but he’d had at least a few shots. The smell of peppermint on his breaths gave it away. He was nine years old and very familiar now with when his dad had had a few drinks or not. His eyes looked tired. He’d never seen his father like this. Drunk yes. But... this? He was upset and as if-- had he been crying? Jason wasn’t sure. After all-- “boys didn’t cry” he had told him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t respond to his father or anyone else who tried to talk to him that day. A lot of people tried to tell him they were sorry but he didn’t want to listen to them. They didn't mean to, but he kept overhearing the adults. "Jason saw the whole thing?" They world say as they darted their eyes back and forth to him in a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. He just wanted his book. He walked to the back of the room and fished it out of his pocket. He sat in the back and didn’t speak to anyone at the service as he read </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charlotte’s Web</span>
  <em>
    <span>. He’d glance up at his father every now and then as he accepted sympathy from co-workers and the few people in their lives. In the back of Jason’s mind he knew the truth: she did it on purpose and Dad had been the one to push the button. Anger, true rage bubbled up quietly in the little boy for the first time in his nine years. He had no way to express it though so he sat on the chair in the back, alone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He glared at the man from behind his book as people kept giving him condolences. His father might as well have put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger as far as Jason was concerned.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Ohio, 1989</b>
</p><p>
  <span>JD stood in his Dad’s office still holding the gun perplexed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell had just happened?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was all going well. He put the gun back in the box and followed behind her but by the time he reached the door she was long gone. He debated grabbing his keys to try and follow her but decided against it. Whatever she was upset about he’d give her a few hours to cool down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God dammit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought as he kicked the doorway <em>things were going well</em>. He didn't know how it had happened but he was attached to her, really attached. She was pretty, funny, and so good. The only good thing in his very broken world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to the office and grabbed the pistol and box of bullets and headed out back. He needed to unload a few rounds on some targets. The house they had rented was on the outskirts of Sherwood, like his dad usually liked. He couldn’t get Veronica’s look of terror out of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without thinking he set up a row of bottles on the fence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he fired. He was a good shot. The first bottle smashed. He couldn’t understand what had freaked Veronica out so much. It was just a gun after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He aimed at the next one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bang. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He heard the satisfying smash. She was so wonderful, and the afternoon had been so good. He loved having her in his bed, having her head in his lap while she read. He even liked answering her silly questions, and sharing stories with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever even thought about that story in the basement playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He aimed at the next bottle. This usually took his mind off a lot of things. Firing a gun was simple and very clear. Pull the trigger and... <em>bang.</em> This time was different though. He got the adrenaline rush from firing a round like usual, but it was nothing compared to the high of burrowing himself in her body and listening to her gasp his name into his ear. His whole body responded to just the memory of her from this afternoon gasping, "don't stop," to him. He wanted to have his fingers back in her hair and her body curled up next to his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bang. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The next bottle smashed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t hear his father pull up. A few minutes later he was in the back yard with a can of Coors in one hand and the rest of the case in his other. He put it down on the lawn. He took a sip and clapped his shoulder noticing all the broken bottles in the backyard. “You always were a good shot.” It was the only thing his father ever complimented him on. When he was younger it would excite him-- praise being so far and few from his father-- but now he just rolled it off as meaningless. “Line up a row for me.” Wordlessly he did as his father asked and passed him the pistol. He offered JD a can of beer, but JD declined. Occasionally he'd have one or two with him ever since he started offering him at about 14-- he knew other teenagers would think that "cool" but JD knew the truth: he only offered because it made his father feel better than drinking alone-- but he wasn't in the mood right now. He sat and watched his father hit one, two, but miss the third. He opened the chamber and refilled the barrel. “It's Friday night," he asked, almost conversationally. "Why aren't you out with that pretty little thing in the mini skirt who was here the other day? Violet was it?” JD grit his teeth as his father passed the pistol back to him. He lined up the shot as his father opened a fresh can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica,” JD said, not wanting her anywhere near his father, before firing the shot and smashing the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have to say, good job. They didn’t make high school girls like that in my day.” He chuckled as he knocked a good portion of the 8 oz can back. JD gritted his teeth and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bang</span>
  </em>
  <span> the pistol went and the bottle smashed. That swill his dad drank was like water for him at this point. At least it was just beer, it was when his dad got the whisky or tequila out that he steered far away. Liquor brought out the truly dark side. When JD didn't respond to his father's baiting he laughed. "God dad, it's weird to hear you talk about my girl like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gee son, if you're having girl problems you know you can always talk to me," JD muttered imitating Ward Cleaver or Alex Stone. His father just snorted and finished off another can. After they were done firing a few rounds-- and probably pissing off whatever few neighbors may have heard-- the two of them sat in silence with the baseball game on as they ate their Hungry Man’s JD warmed up in the microwave. He was happy this house was furnished with one. The rental in Tulsa hadn’t come with one, he remembered. He was fifteen. It sucked. They lived on boxed Kraft macaroni and cheese and pasta with cheap red sauce for the 4 months they were there. He did discover you could gussy up a box of Kraft with some McCormick Bacon Bits or Progresso Bread crumbs from a can though. He had become a real chef, truly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father passed out at about nine with about half of his ninth can still left. Carefully JD cleaned up dinner, poured the rest of the can out and tossed it, turned the TV off, and put the blanket over his father. He’d done it so often he barely even registered it anymore. He grabbed a bottle of seltzer water out of the fridge and the bottle of aspirin. He put them on the coffee table in front of his father for when he woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his coat, but left his keys on the side table needing the walk instead. He still couldn’t get what happened with Veronica that afternoon out of his mind. It had been a few hours though, he’d head over to her house and smooth things over. By midnight he figured she’d be back in his arms and kissing her, maybe even more. He’ll take her to the movies tomorrow on the date she wanted, they’ll fool around in the backseat of his car and all would be forgiven. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Diary,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a boyfriend. Everything’s great! No one’s dead! And it feels so incredibly good to be in his arms: warm and safe. My body can’t seem to get enough of his, it was always like that between me and JD. But it's more than that, this afternoon we were talking and were... connecting until... Today he showed me his gun collection and I flipped out. I have no idea how to explain to him why and I probably shouldn’t even be writing this down--</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>It was about ten PM when Veronica heard someone tap at her open window. </span>She jumped in her seat with a start. She opened the window and backed up.</p><p>
  <span>“Can I come in?” she heard JD ask. He was quiet, thankfully, but her parents were already passed out in front of 60 Minutes. “Dreadful etiquette, I apologize, but I wanted to see you.” Charm. He was using it in full force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know how to respond. At least he asked first, and didn’t break in. Even though she had done that to him. She waved her hand to okay him inside. Quickly, she grabbed her robe and tied it around her body. She was not in the mood for a conversation with him dressed in a long nightgown with bows on it straight from the “Lady Victorian’s Who Never Have Sex” catalog her grandma insisted on shopping out of every Christmas. Her insides churned. How was she supposed to explain why seeing him with the guns this afternoon upset her so much? How would she explain that he needed to never touch them again? That both their futures depended on it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on her bed and sighed. “I’m sorry.” Veronica blinked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She sat down on her comforter next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he repeated. It was strange. It was an apology but… it didn't feel... sincere? Like, he wasn’t apologizing because he knew what he did was wrong, only that she wanted him to say it so he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For..?” She prompted and eyed him carefully. That was the problem he hadn’t said what he was sorry for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, whatever I did that made you upset?” He flashed her a crooked smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She groaned. JD was a lot of things she loved: smart, charming, funny, protective, loving, soulful… but he also knew the things to say to try and get people to talk to him again. Particularly her. He could be manipulative when he wanted to be. She had realized that the last time but for the most part he hadn’t used that power for doing harm this time around. Yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Are you saying ‘I’m sorry’ so I’ll talk to you again or because you understand that the guns freaked me out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Veronica… come on. He’s always had those. My dad showed me how to use them when I was six.” Her eyes bulged picturing a Kindergartner holding a pistol. Fuck, only in America. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Texas, 1978</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing?” His mother exclaimed as she came out to the backyard looking for her son. She had heard the rounds being fired and knew he liked to watch his father shoot, with his hands over his ears, but was not aware it was her young son was doing the firing this time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His father clapped young Jason’s back proudly. “Teaching him to shoot like a man.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s six!” His mother said, aghast. “He likes Grover and I still cut the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!” Unlike her husband, she was born and raised in New York City, the concept of handing your son a loaded pistol was beyond foreign to her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh relax, he’s just practicing on cans. I’m watching him. You make such a fuss over everything,” he said, taking a sip of his Lonestar. He made a face to his son, as if to say, “Mom, right?” It made Jason laugh, then feel instantly ashamed, realizing in his childlike way, how easily he just betrayed his lovely mom for a smidgen of attention from his dad. Jason aimed the pistol and fired, hitting the can off the fence. His mother flinched. His father applauded. It was so rare to get any approval from him and it made him feel really good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kid’s kind of a natural,” he quipped almost proud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Ohio, 1989</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize-- I didn’t realize other people are freaked by those things.” He seemed more confused by it than anything else, which made sense. He hadn’t been raised in a particularly “normal” environment. His normal was not her normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got upset because you were treating them like toys, like we were eight and you wanted to show me your Star Wars figures.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, a good blaster at your side--" he stopped realizing by her face a joke wasn't going to work here. "I mean, honestly, Veronica, I don’t know. What’s the saying? Guns don’t kill people, people kill people? Is that what this is about? Some hippy gun control thing?” Veronica laughed exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That old gem? You’re smart enough to be able to spot a bad analogy... People may suck and want to kill but it’s a hell of a lot easier and efficient to kill people with a loaded gun than without one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. I don’t--" He threw his hands up. "Why are we fighting? I really like you,” he whispered, leaning in to touch her hair. It was soft, and freshly washed. It was loose and natural for bedtime, not styled in the morning like she usually did. “I don’t want to fight,” he said, his voice going lower. “Can we not fight anymore please?” He lifted his fingers to her cheek and lightly stroked the soft skin with the tips of his fingers. His eyes lowered to her lips and involuntarily her eyes fluttered shut, her breath hitching. “You’re so pretty…” He leaned in to kiss her. His lips felt like the cool rain on a hot day. One of his hands was tangled in her hair pulling her closer towards him and the other on her side reaching around to gently to hold her breast. Her body was on fire, particularly in between her legs. God, she both loved and hated how easily he made her body react to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now was one of those times she hated it. As he parted briefly she whispered, “don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asked, still breathless, leaning in for more. His lips brushed hers causing her whole body to ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That!” She yelped, pushing herself away from him completely. She lost her head around him absolutely. A lot of the time that was fun, thrilling, and exciting, but right now she was mad at him. She knew one possible future and she needed to know if it wasn’t too late to shove him away from the path of guns and bombs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m mad at you! And you can’t just put on a charming smile and kiss me to get me to stop being mad at you.” It was like a breakthrough for her. He did that. Often. How many times did she get upset at him and he just made her forget it all by touching her or kissing her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t?” He said, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Oh my god, you get that that’s really screwed up, right?” It was all so much. How was she supposed to get through to him? Could she? Tears started to form in her eyes and she batted them away but he still noticed. “Shit, I hate crying,” she said desperately trying to close the waterworks-- but they fell anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you crying?” He asked, a pit in his stomach forming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think? You made me upset. Instead of talking to me about why you upset me you decided to seduce me instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck,” he whispered, now realizing that she was crying-- because of him. His stomach dropped at the sight of it. The last thing he wanted was to watch a pretty girl cry because some man was a jerk to her. Especially if he was the said man being a jerk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Veronica. Please, I mean it. I’m sorry. Tell me exactly what I did wrong and I won’t do it again.” She blinked at him and wiped the tears away. He had seemed a touch… desperate?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Originally it was Kurt and Ram that made her cry that he could take his rage out on. It had been cut and dry. They were mean and stupid and called her a whore. He tried to beat them up to protect her, he failed. They humiliated both of them and in a fit of vengeance he shot them both dead. He never had to examine his own behavior before he started to truly self-destruct. This time it was himself he had to get mad at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realized it might be a good time to truly talk to him. She had been a bubble the last week. She had known there were real problems of his she had to face, but the giddiness of being with him for real and not seeing death, anger, and revenge infect them she had grown complacent. She sat down back next to him and took his hand, palm up and stared at it, playing lightly with his fingers. She told him. She told him why the guns scared her, why seeing him with them scared her. Not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth </span>
  </em>
  <span>truth obviously-- explaining multiple timelines that she didn’t understand herself would not be beneficial-- but simply the truth that she didn’t want anyone hurt and that inevitably guns led to people getting hurt. Guns were designed to kill. He listened. She wasn't sure if she was truly getting through to him but he did look like he was listening at least. He didn't talk over her, that she was grateful for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry I scared you," he said honestly. "Look, I-- I wasn't thinking okay? I really thought you'd find it fun like I did." She sighed, she was in over her head, she realized. She had to convince him tonight to go to that appointment, if either of them wanted to keep this relationship going. She did, too, she really really did. She remembered what happened last time she broke up with him, but she couldn't live in fear of that either. The circumstances were different. He still had never seen how easy it was to kill and get away with it and she wanted to keep it that. <em>It was never your job to fix me, </em>she remembered him saying. And it wasn't. It was her desire to help him get to be fixed though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I love you,” she whispered, “but please for my sake never load another gun in front of me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You love me?” He repeated, in awe, focusing on that instead of the gun problem. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, <em>that was not how she wanted to say that to him</em>. She tried to back track. She quickly moved away from him, putting space between them and went to the other side of her room. She couldn’t look at him. Her dumb mouth… it had only been a week in this timeline, an amazing week but still...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have said that I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” he blurted out. He hadn't realized that was the case until she had said it. These feelings inside him were so new, and they were overwhelming and he was so unaccustomed to them. He realized this afternoon just how very lonely he truly had been until she blew into his life. All he wanted was to keep her, to keep this feeling-- love, he now realized-- with him. "I was so lonely before I met you," he admitted. "I don't want to be without you." She turned and looked at him. He looked so earnestly at her. “I’d do anything for you. If you don’t like that stuff, fine, it’s okay. We can still go to the movies and talk and kiss...” He smiled ruefully at her, "I really want to keep kissing you. That sounds base, I know, but I love touching you. I love talking to you, hanging out with you. All of it." He stared at her with the most sincere eyes she had ever seen on him. It nearly broke her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other. Dazed, she plopped back down on the bed. The feelings inside both of them were confusing and hard to define. It was always a whirlwind with him, made worse this second time around. Veronica’s feelings were complex because she had the vague knowledge of another set of events-- ones that happened because they both lost their heads to anger, revenge, and violence. She recovered quickly, but he didn't and spiraled away from her. JD because, well, he had been very lonely and very walled up for so long. Veronica was the first person to worm her way through to him and make him feel-- just that, feel in an incredibly long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they both thought as they sat on her bed awkwardly realizing what they had both said to each other, not sure where to go from there. Uncharted territory all around. Gently she touched the bridge of his nose and traced the slope. He closed his eyes enjoying her touch, glad she was still willing to do so again. “Is it weird that happened so fast?” She asked, always having wondered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’ve never--” He bit his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never what? Tell me. Let me in, please?” She draped her hand down the side of his face with the back of her hand and down his body until she took his hand in hers. His breathing got hitched and she shifted a bit closer to him so their knees touched. She didn't want to break contact with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was alone,” he admitted to her. “Since my mother--” Why was he bringing that up? His mother was like a sore tooth, best to not poke it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tell me about her?” She asked tentatively, her thumb rubbing into the palm of his hand. He stared at it. She knew how she died, he had told her last time but this JD hadn’t yet. She leaned in to kiss him, gently, to know that she was there. He reached out to play with her hair, the little stubborn one he liked so much. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Do you really want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she said sincerely. He closed and opened his eyes and looked directly into hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She- she really cared about her hair,” he conjured up an image of her in the recess of his mind, the selective memories he was ready to tell her. He had no idea what power she yielded in this moment to make him talk about this but she did. “She had an appointment once a week for a color and style when I was little. I would sit on the chairs in the waiting area, my legs too little to touch the floor, and read an Encyclopedia Brown book and let the other ladies at the salon fuss over me, you know? Cooed over how cute I was or smart for always reading,” he continued. She dare not interrupt him in case the spell was broken. “They would tell her they couldn’t wait to get a hold of my hair when I was older.” He laughed and ran his fingers through his own hair, making it stick up a bit to get a little laugh out of her. She smiled, they weren't wrong-- the boy did have some nice hair that she liked burying her hands in. “She liked nice things, make-up, clothes, she was very particular about it all but not, like, the way those bitchy girls at school are, ya know? It wasn’t, it wasn’t catty or because she was trying to get attention. I don’t know.” His gaze met hers. “She was nice. She’d take me to story time at the library, watch Sesame Street with me and help me clap along to the songs. She was a dancer before-- she was really good, she would put on records and show me how to do all those old dances." He paused and stared at her, tears were forming in his eyes and he looked shocked. "You’re the first person I’ve talked to about her since--” She nodded, understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what happened.” Her heart dropped. She knew, but he needed to tell her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was so little I had no idea what she was doing in the building, dad had told us to come down. He thought I’d think it was cool to watch the building blow. He didn’t like me reading a lot or being fussed about by girls, thought it’d make me-- you know.” he took his wrist and made it limp before shaking it away knowing all of that was bullshit for many reasons. “She left me sitting on the bench outside the blast zone. My dad said it was an accident, but... she knew what she was doing. Next thing I saw--” He didn’t say it, he merely made the exploding motion with his hands. When he dropped them, she let him sit for a moment before she touched his hand lightly, afraid he’d flinch and not realize it wasn’t in sympathy but in empathy. She knew that he could easily mistake the two. She breathed out in relief though, when he took her hand and looked at it, holding it delicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nervously she finally brought it up. “Do you want me to forgive you for earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything. Veronica Sawyer, I’d die for you,” he breathed leaning in to kiss her. She stopped him and held his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to do that,” she told him, her voice serious and her eyes locked on his. He looked confused. “Dying for someone is easy. It takes a split decision and there's no consequences to face after. You’re stronger than that.” She leaned in and kissed him. “You are strong,” she kissed him again. “I can't help you with what you must soon face but you must be stronger than you imagine you can be,” leaning into his lips again. She broke their kiss and he looked back at her with a mixture of awe and adoration. The feelings in his gut were so new, so raw, and her words and body hypnotized him. He always thought of himself as weak but he’d believe anything she had to say at this moment. <em>Strong</em>, he thought, <em>she thinks I’m strong and I will never let her think differently</em>. He'd do anything if it kept her looking at him and kissing him that way. “I want you to live for me.” She paused, ready to say something she had no idea how he would receive. “There’s a man in Cincinnati,” her breath caught, nervous as fuck, but this might be the best time. “His name is Beckett. Um. Dr. Beckett. Would you talk to him? At least once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor?” He said, confused. “I feel fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, no, not that kind of doctor. He’s a therapist.” His face was unreadable. She held her breath. Would he explode at her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m crazy?” He asked her, flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Jesus. JD, he’s just someone to talk to, that’s all.” He turned his head away from her and dropped the physical contact they had. This was the moment, she realized, the moment that could make or break this whole thing. “It's just sometimes you say things so callously and it scares me. Today? With how blase you were about the guns? That too." He still had his back to her. Gently she lifted her fingers and turned his face back to hers. It was unreadable. "Do it for me?” Her voice quivered ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>Texas, 1978</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck, a meeting? You want me to go to a meeting?!" He knocked the whisky on the counter down hard. Jason was on the floor playing with his Han Solo and Chewbacca figures and flinched.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a program, Bud, and we can all go: me, you, Jason. It’s for families to sit together and talk. Just talk!” She sighed exasperated. "Do it for me? For your son? Please?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Get it out of your head, now!” He threw the pamphlet for the program right back at her and she flinched, fearing worse retaliation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay,” she said, defeated. She went to sit with her son on the rug with his figures. She gently touched him to make assure him the yelling was over. SHe turned back to her husband, defeated. “It was just a suggestion. Never mind." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Ohio, 1989 </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her and her face. She was all he ever wanted. “If I go, you won’t break up with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not-- It’s not an ultimatum,” it couldn’t be, she realized, not if it would be effective. “But I’d appreciate it, it would make me happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll go for you.” Veronica’s eyes grew wide as he pulled her against his body. They ended up laying down on her bed, cuddled up close. He buried his head in her neck and breathed her in. She laid with him silently for a few minutes. She felt something in her, not as large as what had happened the other day with Heather, but a small quiver of change and she wrapped her arms around JD cautiously, afraid to hope. “Also," he spoke. "That speech about strength... I think that’s the message John Connor gives Kyle Reese to say to Sarah Connor in The Terminator.” With tears in her eyes she let loose a laugh, realizing he was right. They both started laughing as they clung to each other tightly.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in completely uncharted waters now, but she wasn't afraid right this moment, laying in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I don't believe in the existence of angels<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>But looking at you I wonder if that's true<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>But if I did I would summon them together<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>And ask them to watch over you<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <strong>Both to each burn a candle for you</strong>
  </em><br/>
<em>
    <strong>To make bright and clear your path</strong>
  </em><br/>
<em>
    <strong>And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love</strong>
  </em><br/>
<em>
    <strong>And guide you into my arms<br/>
</strong>
  </em>
  <em>
    <strong>Into my arms, oh Lord</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>-Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Into My Arms)</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope that ending felt earned, I struggled with it. Kudos and reviews are appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Everybody's Choking On the Grapevine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD gets into a fight. What else is new?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everybody. Thanks for sticking with me. This has been fun to write and I really like knowing others are enjoying it as I always say. I am incredibly grateful as always to all reviewers and those who leave comments each time. I do respond to everyone and I'm not sure if the system allows you all to see it, but I do so double check if you do and you'll see my response. This ended up a bit long, but it needed the set up and pay off and some stuff felt it needed elaborating and as usual I just got into a scene and went with it as my fingers typed.</p><p>The title comes from a Replacements song and their album "Please to Meet Me" gets called out (which is a great album) and fun fact if you didn't know: the lead singer is "Paul Westerberg" whom the high school was named after.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monday morning rolled around Westerberg High and with it another school week. As had now become the custom JD was picking Veronica up from school, she was grabbing him breakfast-- much to her father’s grumblings over not paying for an extra mouth to feed, and her mother’s subtle, but not so subtle, wishes to meet said boy and have him over for dinner-- and they were skipping off campus for lunch to avoid the entire cafeteria gauntlet. It was a lovely arrangement. “The appointment”-- which both Veronica and JD had been mentally referring to-- Veronica had made was for Saturday afternoon. Neither of them had brought it up since he said yes on Friday. Her plan was to make a day of it though in order to make the whole thing more pleasant. He said there was a comic book store up there and they could go beforehand, and maybe after they’d get Thai food or something. She had seen a Woody Allen movie where smart upper middle class city people ate “thai food” and she wanted to know what it was. JD laughed at her when she had mentioned it once and he promised her it was good. </p><p><em> Make a day of it, </em> she thought. <em> Oh God, I sound like my dad. </em>When she was six she had broken her arm playing “tightrope walker” at Martha’s on the large metal radiator they had in their living room while their parents were outside setting up a barbecue. Their small kid feet were just the right size to fit in the grooves and it was big enough to make an obstacle course. She had lost her footing and landed on her arm. Her dad had been the one to take her to the doctor when he heard her scream. He took her to all the subsequent appointments as it healed. Each time they went though he would make a point to stop at Wendy’s for a Frostie. He told her it was because she was in a lot of pain and Frosties were the opposite of that-- it kept the whole thing from being completely awful. Maybe there's some truth to that, though, she realized. Maybe making a day out of "the appointment" won't make it quite so awful.</p><p>In fourth period chemistry, JD stared at D&amp;D Jeff. Kurt and Ram’s issues with him had gotten worse over the week. A weird feeling had come to JD that his beating them up and hooking up with Veronica despite their attempts to emasculate him in front of her had caused them to slide to a more pliable target to reassure themselves of their own masculinity. Ram and Kurt sat two rows above them in chem and as they walked in they kept whispering, “Sir fags-a-lot” to him as they flicked his ear. Jeff's defeated look grew and grew. “His new character must be Sir Fags-a-lot, right there?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a dungeon master. I don’t have a character,” Jeff retorted. JD closed his eyes. <em> Bad move, </em>he thought. This defense only caused Kurt and Ram and the nearby students to laugh more.</p><p>JD glanced at the teacher, Mr. Jennings-- pushing seventy with a look on his face that clearly said, “the district wishes I’d just retire already”-- as he noticeably ignored the flagrant harassment of another student by the quarterback and the linebacker. Chem was the worst class of them all at Westerberg for JD. Not the chemicals and the subject-- that could be cool and interesting with a good teacher-- but fourth period was the lecture, and fifth was the lab with only a five minute break in between if you needed the bathroom. They read from a textbook published in the early 70s. He didn’t even need to look at the copyright date-- the afros and bell-bottoms gave it clear away. There was a film strip too. The kind from eons ago that had more pops and scratches than a grind-house film and the audio never quite synced up to the film. It was the kind that you expected to end with a message saying, “maybe one day man will go to the moon!” That was followed by the dullest lecture known to mankind by a man wearing a short sleeve button down shirt and pocket protector with black horn rimmed glasses like he had a dream deferred of working for mission control in Houston but ended up in high school science instead.</p><p>JD never took notes. When the lab portion started Jeff carefully began putting together the supplies as he read the directions on the lab sheet all of them had. He was a normal kid who just wanted a good grade. That stuff never mattered to JD, mostly because no one in his house cared two wits about his grades so long as they moved him ahead. He liked to learn, to read, but doing the school work the particular way they wanted it done was meaningless to him. </p><p>JD didn’t know where the sudden need to intervene came in as Jeff carefully poured the salt into the bunsen burner as per the instructions. Mr. Jennings settled into his desk to subtly-- but noticeably-- scratch some lotto tickets, and the other kids half talked and half did the lab. “Sir fags-a-lot,” Ram chuckled again loudly for D&amp;D Jeff to hear. He did his best to pretend like he didn’t hear, but they all heard. There were even a few chuckles from the rest of the class.</p><p>“Focus on the lab!” Mr. Jennings halfheartedly commanded barely looking up. <em> Yeah, </em> JD thought, <em> the district was desperate for your retirement.  </em></p><p>JD and Jeff had never really spoken out of the confines of the lab. Maybe it was seeing that glimmer of fighting back in him the other day. Maybe it was Veronica humanizing him with her anecdote about their “past” but out of nowhere he said quietly to him, “hey, it’s not like that in the city. I mean it can be, but they, like, have enclaves. There’s, like, bars and clubs and stuff.” Why the hell did he say that to him? Jeff looked like he could murder JD if he weren’t so afraid of him.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s it to you? Just do the lab for class. No one asked you… psycho,” he said clenched with fear and not committed to the insult. JD nodded, not liking the insult, and regretting his choice to try and help instantly.</p><p>He sat back and lived and let die. “We were supposed to put the water in first. I did this lab last year at my school in Tulsa. It changes the results doing it the other way around. All these labs come from generic science textbooks issued all over the country by a textbook company in Texas. It's why other countries make fun of our public education. And we go to a 'good' school. Imagine how bad it is at the ‘bad ones.’” Unfortunately he said that loud enough to get Mr. Jennings’s attention.</p><p>“Excuse me, Mr.,” he had to glance at his seating chart. Even if he weren’t “new” Mr. Jennings didn’t bother to learn the kid’s names. “Dean. You can leave that commie talk for Mizz,” he over pronounced the non marriage specific title to convey exactly how little he respected it, “Flemming. In this class we respect the work and do so without any back talk, got it?” He sat back down. A couple of other kids sniggered-- particularly Kurt and Ram-- as JD contemplated exactly how much he wanted to piss this monument to the failures of outdated Cold War rhetoric and the criminally faulty American public school system.</p><p>JD couldn’t help it. He rolled his eyes and muttered, "sieg heil."</p><p>“That’s it,” he scribbled on a note, “go to Vice Principal Keene’s office. Now.” He didn’t hesitate, grabbing his stuff, the disciplinary note, and swaggering out of class to a couple of laughs and a few scattered claps. Hopefully it was all cleared up by lunch. Sneaking off with Veronica and hanging out in her study hall-- which she had gotten him transferred into-- were quickly becoming the only reason to show up at all.</p><p>Vice Principal Keene suppressed his urge to laugh at the incident when he read which teacher the discipline note was from and asked the kid to tell him exactly what he said to piss Jennings off. Keene liked to think he tried to be fair, he at least tried to hear the student’s side. Especially with teachers like Jennings. Jennings was a fossil they all wished would leave and the teenager wasn’t wrong about the labs and that awful religious Texas state board that controlled the textbooks for all of America. </p><p>All of their textbooks were old, filmstrips-- fuck! Couldn’t they just get TV’s and VCR’s for more than two classrooms?-- books that didn’t even have spines... Hell, the English department still taught Ivanhoe to 10th graders and only required one black author a year to be taught and one woman. The tenth grade teacher did <em> Their Eyes Were Watching God </em> so he could tick both boxes and keep more dead white guys on there. Keene, like many teachers, wasn’t stupid. The state of education was antiquated and a mess, it’s just… fighting the system? It was tiresome, and he had a mortgage and two of his own kids to worry about.</p><p>And this was a school in a middle class community. He started out in an inner city school in Dayton. By comparison Westerberg was reasonably funded.</p><p>He also couldn’t let the cocky 17 year old in a trench coat and motorcycle boots know any of this. God forbid the teenagers knew the truth-- they were just as tired of the whole system as they were. They just had lost the fight too many times they barely tried anymore. If they realized this, well, anarchy would persist in the halls. They’d all learn one day though. </p><p>Looking at this kid, he could feel the mid-morning headache already. He just wanted to go to the teacher’s lounge, have cheap burnt coffee and have a smoke-- his wife’s persistence he quit both the caffeine and the nicotine habit be damned. That’s the secret that lay beyond the door to the teacher’s lounge: it was a place to smoke and complain about both the school and the students.</p><p>Discipline, he reminded himself. He was hired to keep the kids in line and hopefully out of jail. This kid was obviously no stranger to sitting in a discipline office and if anyone needed it, it was probably him. He took a look at his long coat, messy hair, all black grubby clothes, boots, and cocky demeanor and decided everything he wanted to know about him just from that. There was a time when he tried to talk to each of them separately, and tried not to make snap decisions but the trouble was… nine out of ten times? The snap decision was correct. Keene was also on the wrong side of forty now and tired. He was very tired. He’d overheard the other kids call him “freak” and “psycho” as he walked into the office which he knew was cruel, but he couldn’t help but see where they got the idea. If the kid didn’t like it, well, maybe he should incorporate color into his look.</p><p>It took him a minute after grabbing his file to remember where he’d seen him last. He was a new transfer but already made himself known to the disciplinarian. He looked at the kid remembering the fight in the cafeteria from the other week. It had been with Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly-- celebrities in their small town and if it weren’t for Principal Goawan’s obsession with high school football he would have had the two suspended a long time ago, but they were untouchable. “Look, Mr. Dean, you’re new this year but you may want to stop being such a fixture in this office,” he said sternly. “Between this and the fight the other week...” He looked down at the transcripts and saw the paperwork attached to this kids file. “Jesus, how many high schools have you been to?”</p><p>“Lucky number 10,” JD said, hoping this wasn’t going to be one of those administrators that “still cared” and wanted to “relate to him.”</p><p>“You're dad military?” Mr. Keene asked, confused.</p><p>“No.” JD wasn’t in the mood. Just punish him and let him move on to lunch period. He wanted to laugh and goof off with Veronica already. “Detention? Suspension? What?” Mr. Keene looked at him a little perplexed, but ignored it in favor of his usual lecture.</p><p>“Between the fight-- which I let you off very easy on, a reminder, because you were new--  and this I’m going to have to give you at least a week’s worth starting today.” JD sighed.</p><p>“Fine. How do you do it here? After class or before?” He asked with the ease of someone who had clearly seen all of the spectrum of discipline the American public school system could dole out. <em> After would be better </em>, JD thought. He hated the idea of not being able to pick Veronica up in the morning and have breakfast with her. </p><p>“After,” Mr. Keene said, a bit startled by the world weary tone on a seventeen year old boy. “Show up to room 102 at 2:45 sharp. Even a minute late adds another day. You’re out at 3:30.” </p><p>JD left just as the rest of the school was letting out lunch and he spotted her at her locker. All was suddenly a lot brighter. He put on his assured smile and walked up to her from behind and covered her eyes. She laughed recognizing his smell, feel of his hands, and scratchy fabric of his coat. “Got any plans for lunch?” He asked, flirtatiously.</p><p>She laughed. “Don’t know, I was supposed to go out with my boyfriend but you’ll do in a pinch I guess.” She laughed and turned around and he leaned in for a quick kiss. He rested his head on her forehead and grabbed her hands.</p><p>“Come on, morning sucked. I need to leave, desperately.” She laughed and finished putting her stuff away.</p><p>“You always hate the mornings here.”</p><p>Heather Chandler had entered their atmosphere and Veronica groaned. She had been so happy having her as far away as possible, unfortunately she was like oxygen-- she was everywhere. </p><p>Heather C had walked into Westerberg High that morning with Heather Duke trailing behind her with an agenda. Heather McNamera was now dead to her. She had seen that slut on Friday night with that stoner photography kid at the pizza place laughing as they played Ms. PacMan reeking of the smell. Taking a toke at a sanctioned party was one thing, it was quite another to be making a fool of yourself at the pizza place blazed. </p><p>Veronica tried to wave over Heather M and her-- it was official by the second period as she had asked in English-- new boyfriend to get the skinny and try and get them to join her and JD for lunch. She hadn’t said any of this to JD yet, but of course it would be fine. She just didn’t want Heather Chandler screwing shit up. “Fuck, what is the bitch doing now?” JD saw the concern in her eyes and turned to look in her direction. “Civil war? Brother against brother? Or sister against sister, I should say?”<br/>
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“Please, Heather never prolongs a war. She acts with decisive force. She’s like Patton at the Battle of the Bulge.” Veronica sighed as she saw Heather M on the other side of that force for the first time in her life.</p><p>“Oh, hey Heather,” Heather M said weakly as the two approached her. She looked like a deer in the headlights in her yellow sweater and jeans. “You, um, didn’t swing by my house for a lift this morning?” She asked hurt, but immediately understanding. It was embarrassing, luckily her mom could drop her off on the way to her aerobics class. She avoided all her mother’s questions on the matter of where her best friend since middle school was. Heather M looked tinier somehow-- not that she wasn’t always petite-- having left the heels at home for a day. Veronica had barely recognized her with her hair in simple low pigtails and just gloss and powder. For Heather Mac, this was casual wear. “Hey Heather,” Mac said to Duke. Duke looked on meekly, still loyal to backing up Chandler when needed. </p><p>Veronica pushed past JD and was over there in a heartbeat. She saw tears well up in Heather M’s eyes as others looked on and stared. “Nice to see you with your wits about you Heather. Starting to see you with a cloud of smoke is a bit strange. My mistake, but didn’t you sign that slip with the cheerleading coach vowing to ‘just say no?’ and that you could be cut at any time for the simplest of slip ups?” Heather M looked flustered.</p><p>“Come on Heather, no one takes that seriously…”<br/>
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“Oh, really Heather? I mean, I know I take my health and my future very seriously. Such a shame to see you--” Veronica was done with this little show.<br/>
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“Heather, you’re coming with us for lunch, right?” Veronica butted into Chandler’s threats. Heather C glared at Veronica, unused to the intrusion. Heather M looked at Veronica and smiled, finding her ground for the first time in years. Something passed between Veronica and McNamara. Neither of them were going to be intimidated by Heather Chandler anymore. Heather Chandler glared at the two of them, not used to people defying her.</p><p>“You know what Heather? I know where I’m sitting for lunch.” She turned to Veronica. “Let's go Veronica.” She took Kyle’s hand and he dutifully followed, unused to the rage of Heather Chandler or of being the center of any gossip whatsoever.</p><p>“Just keep walking guys,” Mac hissed at the two of them. “She might turn me to stone if I look back.”</p><p>“I appreciate the mythology reference Heather, even if you did mix up both Orpheus and Medusa,” Veronica joked. JD ran after all of them, equally perplexed. </p><p>“Oh my god, oh my god… I can’t believe we just blew Heather off. That was awesome Veronica!” Veronica grabbed her hand and the two of them went trailing after her towards JD’s car. He unlocked the driver’s door and leaned over to open the passenger side-- it didn’t unlock from the outside and it was the only way to open it. Veronica lifted the sat so Heather and Kyle could slide into the back before slinging it back for her to slide in.</p><p>“We’re all going?” He asked, more surprised than mad as Veronica closed the door twice to catch it on the lock as she was now accustomed to. He didn’t realize that it would be a group outing. Veronica reached over and rubbed her hand sweetly over his arm and leaned over to kiss his cheek.</p><p>“It’ll be fun. I promise.” He did not look assured.</p><p>“Fun?” He questioned.</p><p>“You know the ashtray has melted plastic in it?” Heather M asked pointing to it as if JD didn’t know that. He performed a double take as Kyle was already rooting through his tapes.</p><p>“Hey, what-” Veronica squeezed his arm to get him to not be rude. He yelped and looked back at her, frustrated.</p><p>“Oh man, wild. Some of these are on the radio late at night but I’ve never seen them before.” Veronica started laughing as JD looked more and more confused and grumpy by the extra guests in his car and them taking liberties with his things and criticizing his car. He was really cute, annoyed and confused, she realized.</p><p>“Also there’s a large tear in the cover of the front seat.” Heather started to finger the flapping material in vane, like it could be easily fixed and he had just been unaware of it.<br/>
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“Mind if I borrow a few of these? My brother would flip.” He was already grabbing some out of there and unzipping his bag as if JD had agreed to it.</p><p>“I don’t think these seat belts are really effec--” He started the engine and turned back to Heather.</p><p>“Yes Heather, I’m aware my car is falling apart,” he said a bit shortly causing her to jump and stop investigating all the failures of his car. He actually started at that, feeling… guilty? He didn’t realize being gruff at Heather M would make him feel like he had kicked a dog. And he did-- begrudgingly-- have some respect for what she had just done and said to Heather Chandler. He turned to Kyle. “And you--” Kyle stopped pawing through his cassette case stunned by the tone. “What’s your name again?” JD honestly couldn’t recall.</p><p>“Kyle,” he repeated, resuming his rifling through the tapes.</p><p>Veronica smiled at him and kept stroking his arm to calm him down all while trying to contain her laughter over his frustration of guests in the backseat. He groaned acquiescing to the request to borrow music. He looked at her and she smiled. “One at a time.” She squeezed him affectionately. </p><p>“Cool!” He held up The Replacements <em> Pleased to Meet Me. “ </em>I’ll get it back to you, promise.” </p><p>“By next Monday,” JD said, grumpy and unaccustomed to people rooting through and borrowing his tapes.</p><p>“You’re so generous babe,” Veronica said, starting to let some of her giggles out. He shook his head as the four of them left the parking lot and headed for the 7/11. He also grabbed Echo and the Bunnyman’s self-titled album and JD ejected his other tape, sliding the new one in. He handed the old one to Veronica who now used to it grabbed the old case and put it away so he could drive the car and not crash it. It started on side B and “Lips Like Sugar” blasted through his crummy speakers. He lowered the volume slightly.</p><p>“I got detention for the rest of the week,” he confessed to Veronica as they drove, forgetting momentarily about the extra passengers.</p><p>“Oh, I heard! You, like, told Jennings off, mad props man.” Heather pinched him. “Ow, what was that for?” She put her finger over her lips and pointed to Veronica who looked a little concerned. </p><p>“Oh, sucks.” She played with her skirt and tried not to be too disappointed. “I assume you must have been the righteous one and the teacher was the jerk?” He glanced at her, as he pulled into the parking lot but couldn’t read her face and park a car at the same time. </p><p>“Come on, that tool is pushing 90 and asking to be talked back to. He’s still fighting the Battle of Verdun, for god’s sake.”<br/>
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“I know, I had him last year.” She disliked seeing her disappointed like that. He pulled into a spot and turned the engine off.</p><p>“It’s not a big deal. Just means I can’t--” Suddenly he remembered they had an audience. He was about to allude to their usual, bring her back to his place to ‘study’ and most likely fornicate before his dad came home and ruined the mood after school plans.</p><p>“Let’s go get lunch,” Veronica said, also realizing they had company as well and best not to discuss this all in front of them.<br/>
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“Make sure you roll the windows up! I don’t want my car to get stolen,” JD yelled at the back seat. They both did in the back.</p><p>“Who’s going to steal--” This time Kyle pinched Heather, respecting that he clearly cared about the car. “I’m just saying, it’s Sherwood, Ohio for crying--” He pinched her again, getting the message.</p><p>They all got out and descended on the 7/11. “This one’s on me guys!” Heather M proclaimed realizing her newfound freedom. “After what just happened--” She started to get a little choked up before Veronica moved to her side and linked her arm to hers. “Anyway, yes. Let us feast!”</p><p>She ran ahead with Kyle as her and JD hung back before going in.</p><p>“Let her pay, her parents are loaded.” He could be funny about having others-- even her-- treat him. </p><p>“Fine,” he said too easily placated. </p><p>“Come on,” Veronica said, trying to read him. “What was all this about this morning? You usually don’t talk at all in class, let alone talk back.” He sighed. A lot had passed between them since the Friday he freaked her out and they talked and he agreed to the “appointment." They were together again, she was with him but she now wanted him to let her in. And he was, in his defense, trying. He realized if he wanted to keep her he was going to have to try. It was just hard to do something no one had ever taught you to do.</p><p>He groaned. “I did something stupid. I tried- I tried to be nice to that kid. That one you told me you knew in middle school, my lab partner?”</p><p>“D&amp;D Jeff?” She asked, surprised not expecting that to be the focal of this discussion.</p><p>“Yeah. Tried to-- I don’t know. It wasn’t appreciated. Kind of a ‘why try?’ situation. Probably my fault and said the wrong thing.”<br/>
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“So you took it out on old man Jennings?” He shrugged.</p><p>“Come on, he’s hardly innocent. An embarrassment to his profession. The kind of teacher that probably does sleep in the classroom you could never imagine him having a personal life.”</p><p>“Well,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist and looking up at his face. “I applaud you being nice. Or trying to be at least. Try not to make a habit out of detention though?” She stood on her tiptoes and leaned into his lips. He took them gently and enjoyed the feel of her. “Can’t have a jailbird boyfriend.” He kissed her again.</p><p>“I thought you liked this bad-ass thing?” He started to rub his thumbs where her shirt connected with her skirt.<br/>
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“Well, yes but--” Heather leaned out the door and sighed.</p><p>“Oh my god, make-out later. I’m getting us turbo dogs, they only stay hot for, like, one minute after they’re nuked.” She laughed and detangled herself from him and dragged him into the convenience mart.</p><p>They got back to school with about 15 minutes to spare and Veronica and Heather used the opportunity to use the ladies before study hall. Entering the bathroom they were laughing and gossiping. “So, for real. I can’t believe you and I are friends without Heather Chandler. This is amazing,” Veronica said.</p><p>“And lunch was actually fun. Oh my god, yes, we need to go to the movies, the four of us.” Veronica laughed, liking the idea of torturing JD with more of that.</p><p>“Yes, that would be--” The toilet flushed and the stall opened. It was Martha. The three were all quiet as Heather M finished reapplying her gloss.</p><p>“I’ll see you after school, ‘kay Veronica?” Heather asked as she exited, realizing the tension.<br/>
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“Um, yeah.” Veronica carefully pulled her brush through her hair as she and Martha stood together at the sinks and mirror awkwardly unsure if she should say something.</p><p>“I’m done being mad with you, Veronica,” Martha said, quietly. “What you did was awful, but you said you were sorry. You meant it, right?” Veronica’s heart caught in her throat and she turned to her oldest friend.<br/>
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“Yes. Oh my god. Yes!” Tears were in Martha’s eyes and Veronica’s were already falling.</p><p>“I want nothing more to be your friend again." Martha turned to her and agreed it was the right thing to do. She had missed Veronica. Desperately.</p><p>"Same. Yes, same. Do you, I mean, do you want to do a movie night? Popcorn? Whatever movie you want? I promise. If that's okay. If you want to.”</p><p>“You don’t have plans? I mean you’re dating--” She remembered how much further into life Veronica had been than her. "You're dating."</p><p>“We have plans Saturday, but," she remembered his detentions all week. Maybe it was a blessing in an awful way if it meant she could connect with her again. "Anything else I can totally do with you. I swear. Friday night is you and me.”<br/>
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“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot. We could catch up. I feel like you’ve lived a whole life without me.”<br/>
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“What about you? I’m sure there’s a million things to tell me.” She shrugged. They heard the first warning bell for lunch. "Fuck. Also, don't worry about the bus!" Veronica called as she grabbed her stuff and made her way to next period. "We'll give you a ride." Martha smiled. A matching pair, she remembered. Martha walked to her next class resolved. She had her friend back, and if she liked this boy than she'd try to like him too. </p><p>When the final bell rang for class to be dismissed at 2:30 Veronica and Martha were at her locker talking and planning the most epic movie night ever. So wrapped up in it she didn’t even see Kurt Sweeney approach the girls solo. Kurt casually-- but really awkwardly-- butted into the conversation by leaning on the locker in between the two girls as if Martha weren’t even alive.</p><p>“Hey… ‘Ronica.”</p><p>"Ver," she corrected nervously. "It’s Veronica. With a ‘v,'" she said tersely. <em> What the hell was he doing? If he knows what’s good for him just stay far away from all of them. </em></p><p>“Just curious about what time on Saturday I should pick you up?” He leaned in and as Veronica tried to exit his stare, he blocked her getaway.</p><p>Veronica sighed. “Why now?”</p><p>“Huh?” Kurt asked.</p><p>“Kurt, we’ve known each other since Kindergarten and in all that time you’ve barely noticed me. Why suddenly the obsession for me to go out with you now?” She thought back to middle school and ninth through eleventh. Even though she was aware of what a prick he was she was such a sheep to the idea of popularity she would have died to have Kurt ask her out then but he barely noticed her.</p><p>“I mean, you’re really hot now.” She sighed again, and uncharitably thought, <em> this guy is the definition of TSTFL: Too stupid to fucking live.  </em>She stopped that train of thought though, remembering.</p><p>“Look Kurt, I told you I’m not interested and I'm busy with another guy. Honestly, it's really best if you just leave me alone and get any idea of the two of us out of your head. The farther away the better.” She tried to get away only to be blocked again.</p><p>“Come on. Saturday. You and me. It’ll be epic.” He leaned in and all she wanted to do was be as far away from him as possible. Before she could even try again to leave she heard a dark deep voice say in a very calm but definitive tone:</p><p>“She has plans Saturday.” It was JD. He walked up, closed off Kurt’s contact with Veronica and-- possessively-- put his arm around her. His entire glare and demeanor towards Kurt was something that made Veronica’s innards spin unpleasantly. Kurt dropped his arm but didn’t stop his glare at JD. He just tightened his arm around her. </p><p>“Look, Kurt was just going,” Veronica said to JD but he wasn’t listening.</p><p>“Solo?” JD asked. “Thought you and your buddy boy never left each other’s company?” JD asked, noticing his worser half was nowhere to be seen. What was his plan here? Did he grow a pair and decide to try and take JD on again, solo?</p><p>“This doesn’t concern you psycho loser. Veronica and I were just making plans for Saturday night.” Kurt reached out and pushed JD’s shoulder. JD barely moved and just stared at it like it was a stain on his coat.</p><p>“Let’s just go,” she said to JD. Unfortunately she was quite literally trapped between them and JD was too busy measuring his dick to Kurt’s to listen. </p><p>For JD’s part this was mostly about Veronica and the POS’s absolute gall to go anywhere near his girlfriend but it was other things too. It was their need to fuck with him, and he really did hate the way he treated other guys like shit just because they could. Like he saw him do this morning.</p><p>“She told you she was busy, dickwad.” JD accentuated his insult and met Kurt right in the eye like he was a wild dog JD needed to meet in the eye to show he was not just his equal, but his superior. Kurt laughed, somehow forgetting all about the last time JD handed his balls to him on a plate.</p><p>“Look Veronica, I don’t know what you think you see in this freak but I’m starting on Tuesday’s game. And a pretty girl like you wants to be with a starter.” Veronica’s insides churned. She didn’t like where this conversation was heading at all.</p><p>“Starting, wow, and probably finishing a minute later,” JD retorted back. Veronica-- and the small crowd that had gathered anticipating another smack-down challenge-- couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It <em> was </em>funny. Kurt made the upper move by leaning over to touch her exposed cleavage from where her blouse's button started-- but never broke eye contact with JD. Veronica flinched at the extremely unwanted touch. </p><p>That was the spark that set JD off and he shoved Kurt as he dropped his arm from around her and Kurt shoved back. He barely realized how close she was to all this fighting as they moved slightly away from her in their male pissing contest to beat each other senseless.</p><p>Boys shoving each other and fighting. Over her. Well, mostly over her. <em> Oh dear lord, </em> she realized, Some very dark, dark, small part of her was infatuated by him even more. <em>What the fuck Ronnie? You still think it’s hot that he’d beat up a guy for you? What the fuck is wrong with you?!</em> </p><p>“Stop it!” She said, coming to her senses as he landed a punch. Kurt didn’t go down and pushed him back. “Stop it right now!” She grabbed at JD’s coat and in the scuffle he accidentally pushed her down and she slammed her arm into the locker. Hard.</p><p>“Ow!” she yelped. She gripped her arm as pain shot through it.</p><p>“Veronica?” The fog of feral anger lifted from JD as he saw Veronica in pain gripping her arm. It was the momentary distraction Kurt needed to sucker punch him.</p><p>That’s when Mr. Keene, who heard the commotion outside the detention room door, went to break the scuffle up. “Both of you, in my office.” They were on opposite sides of him, like fighters in the ring. “Now!” He started escorting the two to the end of the hall where the Vice Principal’s office was. JD turned to look at Veronica, worried if she had been hurt but kept walking. “Miss Dump-” he flinched accidentally using the student’s awful nickname for her, “Miss Dunstock, help Miss Sawyer to the nurse’s office.” Martha nodded, more concerned with Veronica’s safety than anything else. Pain shot through her arm from the awful way it throbbed.</p><p>The two boys were dumped in the disciplinarian's office on opposite ends still not totally cooled off from the fight. He went into his office and they glared at each other for the twenty minutes they waited. When Mr. Keene came back in, the man looked defeated and sighed. “Mr. Kelly, go to football practice. Now! Before Coach Flynn gets mad.” Kurt stood with a slight smug smile and waltzed out, clearly getting off scott free from the whole event. <em> Typical, </em> JD thought.</p><p>Mr. Keene returned his attention to the delinquent in front of him. “Well, twice in one day. You must have really missed my office. It’s cozy isn’t it?” JD glared up at him, still ticked up from the fight but mostly just concerned with Veronica and wanting to be rid of the administrator doing his job in front of him. He tried to open his mouth to plead to go see her but he was stopped. “Look, I don’t want to hear it. This is your second fight involving Kelly and I don’t care who started it,” JD tried to talk, “or who finished it.” JD snorted. "Between that and this morning's incident--"</p><p>“That’s why you sent him off nicely to football practice with no repercussions?” Jd scoffed. Mr. Keene slightly rebuffed that. He wasn’t wrong, but so long as football was king at this school-- as the internal phone call to Principal Gowan he had just come off from was-- he had no choice. “Do you even want to hear my side of the story or are you just going to automatically believe the starting quarterback?” JD looked at the administrator with disdain then broke back to his usual walled bitterness. “Typical.” He sighed. “Look, just dole out the detentions or whatever. Is Veronica in the nurse’s office, still? I just want to go see her and make sure she’s all right.” <em> And apologize, </em> he told himself internally. <em> Beg for forgiveness. </em>His insides turned and his leg started to twitch as random awful memories churned through his head of his mother and father’s interactions. He shifted in his seat willing them to go away. </p><p>Mr. Keene looked at the punk in front of him. He was smarter than most of his bad apples that had been put in front of him, but he still couldn’t let him gain the moral high ground lest he loose reigns on his authority. “I think it would be best for you to stay away from Miss Sawyer. I’ve phoned her parents about this and I doubt they’ll want you hanging around her after an incident like this.” <em> Fuck, </em> JD went cold. <em> He had to talk to Veronica. </em> He glared up at Keene and decided to let it loose.</p><p>“I have been to ten schools and every single one of them is the same. The alpha males harass, belittle, demean, and hound all the girls. They snap their bra straps, look up their skirts, pat their butts, make crude and nasty remarks about their bodies or who they go out with and everyone turns a blind eye. Boys will be boys, right? But two guys hit each, wow, that gets stern lectures and trips to the vice principal’s office.”</p><p>Keene snapped, his truth hitting him too close to the bone. He wasn't wrong at the injustice but he hated it thrown in his face so starkly like that. “You’re suspended. For the rest of the week.” JD stood up, flinging his arms.</p><p>“Awesome!” He stormed out of the office.</p><p>Trying to cool down he stalked off towards the nurses office and saw Veronica and her friend Martha walking from that door. Martha looked at him strangely, as if afraid to leave Veronica alone with him. He ignored it and rushed over to her. “Veronica! Are you okay? I’m so--” Veronica couldn’t muster rage or anger at his actions. He couldn’t read her at all and that left a pit of fear in his stomach. Everything since Friday had been so fragile with them. There was no way to get out of his promise of Saturday without keeping her, he realized now.</p><p>“I’m fine. It’s a sprain maybe. A really, really light bruising honestly. Don’t have to go to the hospital. Nurse gave me ice and wrapped it up.” He showed her the ice pack and Ace bandage around her wrist. His heart seized. <em> You got her hurt. </em></p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”</p><p>She looked at him. She knew that was true. It had really been an accident and the way that Kurt had touched her… she didn’t like it one bit. She hated to admit it, but she wasn't sorry that he got into a fight with him. How many girls did he take liberties with? She knew what had happened last time but now…? She swallowed. “I know.”</p><p>“That dick just made me so mad and-” He took her hand and tried as hard as he could to be tender with her. <em> You love her, </em> he told himself. <em> You can not hurt her. </em></p><p>“I know. I know. He’s a dick. I like that you stick up for me--”<br/>
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“But he--” His anger came from nowhere remembering how he touched her against her will. She closed her eyes and opened them. There was something else she had to tell him.</p><p>“Look at me. Are you okay? How much trouble are you in?” She was searching him, seeing him tremble. This was different from the old JD, she saw now. He was seeing it, he was seeing what his anger could cause the girl he loved.</p><p>“I’ve been suspended now. The rest of the week. I'm sorry.” <em>Christ, </em>he thought, <em>she was already annoyed about the detentions.</em> He also had to figure out how to keep his dad from finding out. His father was not someone who cared much for detention slips but a suspension might start a fight. “That asshole got off scott free though.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did he?” Veronica was stunned and slightly angry on JD's behalf suddenly seeing the hypocracy raw in front of her. Kurt initiated it by purposefully bothering her and touching her against her will. She hadn’t expected that. <em> This school, </em>she thought. She pushed passed it, trying not to remember the creepy way he touched her. “Look, you want to make it up to me?” She turned to him realizing she needed to tell him her real scary news.</p><p>He looked at her, desperate to make it right. “How?”</p><p>She bit her lip as well as the bullet. “They called my folks about this. They’re a little upset and well… You’re going to have to come to dinner to meet them. They want your, um, dad to come too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and reviews are nicely accepted but you can also check this article out if you are so inclined. It's full of a lot of great actionable items if it is something you feel as strongly about as I do.</p><p>"11 Things You Can Do To Help Black Lives Matter End Police Violence" ----&gt;&gt;&gt;<br/>https://hubs.ly/H0r5B2D0?fbclid=IwAR1b2HslCeXIRXrdMb_fJxiQCNBIxWF_8sXA-NuqqfbQ7m7xt6oUb1TMg8I</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Dad Jokes and Pot Roast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD's dad and Veronica's dad have a beer together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... this chapter doesn't go as exactly as many of you commented last chap may have expected, but it gets there, stick with it. </p><p>There's a shout out to Black Flag's "Rise Above" which, as tends to happen, was playing on my playlist when I was writing and was like, "yep, that's a JD song."</p><p>Again, as always, thank you to all the people commenting and kudo-ing it is really appreciated knowing others are reading. Particularly enjoying that a discussion happened last time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That Tuesday night Veronica was staring out the window of her house keeping an eye out for JD’s car. She was nervous, but also excited. She wanted him in her life, in all of her life. She wanted her parents to meet him, to know that he was the one she had chosen and that he had chosen her.</p><p><em> They’ll like him, </em> she thought to herself. <em> They’ll like him because I love him. </em></p><p>That being said, their first impressions of him were a bit wobbly. At about seven o’clock on the dot she saw his car pull up in the spot in front of her house. Patiently she waited for him to make his way out and knock on the door. He sat in the driver's seat with the gas off, but the battery was still on listening to the tape in his deck. Confused, she went outside to see what was up.</p><p>He was just sitting in his car with the tape still playing and his hands gripping the steering wheel staring at the road ahead of him. She could hear the lyrics, “<em>society's arms of control, rise above, we're gonna rise above. Think they're smart, can't think for themselves. Rise above, we're gonna rise above.” </em> He was listening to  the <em> Damaged </em> album by Black Flag which was just so very him. She knocked on the window. He turned his car off and with it the music. He leaned over to turn the knob to roll the window down. She leaned over it and said, “hey stranger, you like parking outside of a girl’s house all creepy-like playing punk music?” He sighed and got out of the car.<br/><br/>“Hey, sorry just working up the courage.” The first day of his suspension had been spent waking up to go to school as usual and driving off so as to not alert his father of the change of routine. He got home early though to root through the mail for the parental confirmation slip he had to have signed acknowledging his father’s awareness of said suspension. He was going to ask Veronica to take care of it for him at some point in order to sweep the whole thing under the rug.<br/><br/>“Where’s your dad?” She asked nervously, slightly relieved he didn’t come, but also nervous because it’s what her parents wanted.</p><p>“I didn’t ask him,” he admitted, getting out of the car. She was worried her parents would be upset. “Come on, it’s for the best. Let’s just say he’s out of town for work right now, okay?” She sighed, knowing it was but still-- her parents wanted it. He slipped his arm around her waist and walked up to the door with her.</p><p>“At least you came.”<br/><br/>“Of course I did.” He squeezed her side and kissed her head.</p><p>“How was everything with them?” He asked, worried, taking her hand as she led him to her door.</p><p>“Well, they’re not happy but… They seem mostly concerned.”<br/><br/>He sighed. “And you? You sure you’re alright?” She showed him her arm.</p><p>“It’s fine, just a bruising. It was a lot of fuss over nothing.” He took her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss before moving sweetly to her arm.</p><p>“Still, I’m sorry.” She smiled at him.</p><p>“I know. You've told me a thousand times.” It still hadn't relieved his guilt over the incident.</p><p>“How do I look?” He asked nervously.</p><p>Veronica was taken aback not noticing much difference than he usually looked. “The… same as you usually do.” She smiled. “Devilishly handsome.” Her eyes twinkled as she took him by the collar of his coat and brought his lips back down to hers. It was almost enough to calm his nerves. She had missed him in school that day. It was nice to ride the bus with Martha and eat lunch with her and Heather M, awkwardly, in the cafeteria-- even if they knew gossip surrounding the fight swirled around her. One rumor claimed she had to be airlifted to the hospital she got hurt so bad. They were stupid, and would be gone by tomorrow. After all, during 8th period Paul Kachinsky got caught with a knife on campus and was now himself suspended for a week. Rumor was he brought it to challenge one of the other football players to the fight but that was the gossip mill for you.</p><p>“Oh, um, I mean… I put on a grey shirt. I thought… I thought it would… make a better impression,” he mumbled stupidly. So he did. He had switched his black one for a grey underneath his open flannel and instead of black pants he had on jeans… with holes, but jeans. The motorcycle boots though stayed. She wondered if he even owned a pair of tennis shoes or sneakers. Maybe she could at least convince him to buy some black chucks or something. JD looked nervous. She had never seen him nervous. “Shit, was I supposed to bring something? On TV people bring things.” They went inside and Veronica took his coat and hung it up on the coat rack.</p><p>“It’ll be fine. I promise. It’s my parents not the Colbys.” She took his hand-- which was sweating now-- and smiled as she led him over to their family table.</p><p>Her dad put his book down as they walked over and her mom was still futzing in the kitchen getting dinner ready. She was walking out with the hot plate, after she had put out the salad and bread.</p><p>Still holding his hand to make sure Mom and Dad understood the nature of their relationship clearly she introduced him. “Mom, Dad… this is JD.”<br/><br/>“Nice to meet you,” her mother said, after she put the platter down. She took the oven mit off to shake his hand. She glanced up and down at his attire trying hard to hide her disapproval. Sylvia Sawyer had promised herself she would give this boy a fair shot for Veronica’s sake. </p><p>“Jason.” Her father refused to call this boy by a two letter nickname. He had also made no such promise to himself about giving him a fair break. He held his hand out to JD and shook it. Hard. He looked the boy in the eye and decided instantly he did not like him nor would he ever. His daughter’s bruised wrist was all the proof in the world to make him one Bad News Bear in his opinion and everything else about him was just icing. “I thought we invited your dad as well.”<br/><br/>“He, um-- he sends his apologies but he couldn’t make it,” JD lied. If her parents met his father they would definitely not like him, he realized.</p><p>“How unfortunate,” her dad said, clearly not believing him. "We'll have to try and do this again when he returns. I would really like to meet him."</p><p>JD tried to smile. "Um, yes, that would be swell." That might have been the first time in JD's life he had ever used the word, "swell."</p><p>Her mother had made a pot roast with buttered noodles with a large salad, steamed broccoli, and rolls on the side. His eyes widened at the sight and smell of a freshly cooked meal being placed on the table. All of it. He was suddenly in intense anticipation for it. Last night he had treated himself to the Hungry Man meal with turkey and thought himself a king. He had forgotten entirely what it meant to have a real meal at a table with other people. <em> Keep it together, </em> he repeated to himself inwardly. <em> Veronica’s family. This means a lot to her. </em> </p><p>“Well, we don’t stand on much formality here.” Eagerly she started putting portions on each plate. Veronica reached for bread and put one on his. He smiled, grateful. </p><p>He took a bite… it was amazing. There was none of the chemical blandness of fast food or the uneven heat of something from a microwave or the paper-mache feel of high school cafeteria food. Greedily he took another bite, suddenly famished… then another… and another until he realized he was eating a bit too heartily compared to the Sawyers and slowed down, reaching for his water glass.</p><p>“This is, um, very good Mrs. Sawyer. Thank you.”</p><p>She looked at him concerned and surprised before responding, “you’re welcome. There’s more if you like.” JD slowed down, worried he was being rude. He was bad at this. So bad. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a meal at a table and had to make conversation with polite normal people. He was becoming very aware that sitcoms may not be the best guidance for this. Well, in the case of her father-- he was soon to realize-- he never stood much of any chance.</p><p>Veronica reached under the table and lightly squeezed his knee in support and smiled at him to help calm him down. “I, um, haven’t had a home cooked meal like this in a long time.” A proper wave of maternal sympathy hit Mrs. Sawyer at that moment.<br/><br/>“Yes, I imagine not since your mother-” Veronica flashed a look to her mother to shut up. Her mother got the message. “I’m sorry Veronica told me.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” he said, used to the sympathy.</p><p>“So, Jason. What’s your plan for the future?” He slowly put the utensils down, and picked up the water, his throat going dry.</p><p>“Future?” JD asked, confused.</p><p>“Yes. For after graduation, what are your plans?” He persisted.</p><p>Veronica’s eyes widened in shock at her father. “Jeez dad are you seriously asking about his prospects? Just out of curiosity how many cows am I being bartered for?” JD tried to suppress his urge to laugh, but couldn't stop a small snort coming out. Veronica nudged her foot into him and Mr. Sawyer narrowed his eyes at him.</p><p>“I’m asking about after graduation, which isn’t that far away. Where are you applying?” Veronica now glared at her father.</p><p>“I haven’t um, I haven’t figured that out yet.” To be honest, he'd never really stopped to think too much about the life he would lead after he got let go from school. Most of his life was spent trying to figure out one day after the next, and it wasn't like anyone at home had pushed him to think about such things.</p><p>“But you’re going?” Her father asked accusingly.</p><p>“I haven’t really given it much thought to be honest. Probably not. At least not yet. My transcripts are a bit of a mess, so many schools and all...”<br/><br/>“So then, trade school?”</p><p>“Uh… no.  I, uh, just wanted to get a job or something”</p><p>“Dad!” Veronica hissed.</p><p>“Veronica, I am just inquiring as to what the young man who has been escorting my daughter, has planned for his very imminent future. I do not think that is an inconsequential inquiry. When will you be eighteen?” JD put down his fork realizing how very badly this was going.<br/><br/>“February.”<br/><br/>“So, job prospects then?” </p><p>“Bill…” Her mother now glared at him.</p><p>“Sylvia, don’t you agree that any boy who is taking our daughter out ought to have a plan for his imminent adulthood- any plan?”</p><p>“Honey, please. Let's not grill the boy like this." She glared at her husband trying to send their long term married look of, <em>stop it, this is accomplishing nothing. </em>"So, where did you move here from JD?” Her mom tried to change the subject.</p><p>“Um, Boston. Tulsa before that. Alaska at one point… Kansas… Poughkeepsie... We, um, we move a lot.”</p><p>“Oh?" Mrs. Sawyer was taken aback at the vagabond lifestyle.</p><p>“Yeah." He didn't want to linger too much on the subject of his father or moving.</p><p>"Um, JD's really smart dad. You know that stack of books you told me looked like advanced philosophy homework, he lent them to me." Her father was only mildly impressed.</p><p>"So, then you must have good enough grades to think about school," her father said returning to this subject.</p><p>"It gets difficult in school, um, when you transfer to different curriculum standards so much," JD said, realizing just how badly this dinner was going and unsure if there was much of anything he or Veronica could do to salvage it.</p><p>“You don’t say? So, your father. He’s that man on TV? The one you always hear about fighting lawsuits?”<br/><br/>“Bill!” Veronica's mother was shocked by the rudeness.</p><p>“It’s not an unfair assessment of him, Mr. Sawyer,” JD said darkly.</p><p>“Dad, you are like two seconds away from being very rude.” Her father's temper finally broke. He was normally an even tempered man. He was an accountant and a Midwesterner through and through. He was raised on politeness and neighborliness. It did not happen often but when it did...</p><p>“Veronica, this boy got into a fight at school and you got hurt!” It wasn't hard to see what one of his triggers were-- and his only daughter was high on the list.</p><p>“I told you it was an accident. That boy was bothering me and he was trying to defend me.”</p><p>“He was defending you and you got hurt? I don’t really understand how that could happen.”</p><p>JD broke the awkwardness to assert the one thing in his defense to impress the man he could think of at the moment. “I would never let anyone hurt her. I promise you that.”<br/><br/>“Even yourself?” A white streak of cold whipped through JD at that statement. He was starting to scare himself of that after the fight on Monday.<br/><br/>“Dad! Come on,” Veronica plead with her father.</p><p>"Can we please have a nice dinner and try to get to know her friend civilly? Please." JD didn't have much experience with familial discourse in a more harmonious household and decided that perhaps he should remove himself from the scene to make things better.</p><p>“You know what? I can go.” JD stood up, prepared to go.</p><p>“Sit down!” The entire Sawyer clan said at once. He did not broker with that command.</p><p>They finished eating dinner with the only questions now coming from her mother who stuck with more general getting to know you things like, "how do you find the town?" and "what are your interests?" All of which JD-- with Veronica's help-- tried to give pleasant answers to. Her father barely made eye contact with him as he finished his pot roast.</p><p>Her mother insisted on giving him the leftover pot roast, veggies, and salad. She may not be his biggest cheerleader, but the idea of a teenage boy living on TV dinners and fast food as she expected he did did not sit well with her. She was a mother after all. That being said she did not give him her good Pyrex, merely her cheaper Gladware. Her generosity and concern had its limits.</p><p>JD leaned against his car exhausted as he tossed the leftovers in his passenger seat both weirded out about accepting them but kind of looking forward to a dinner of real food tomorrow. Veronica teetered back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously staring at him. “That could’ve gone better.”<br/><br/>“I didn’t expect them to like me,” he said honestly.</p><p>“It could be worse. I mean, Princess Leia’s father shot her boyfriend and ordered him frozen in carbonite when she brought him for dinner.” He laughed, but ran his hand through his hair, looking dejected. “It’s not fair, he barely got to know you. And you him. I don’t know where tonight came from. He's usually not like that.”<br/><br/>“It’s okay.” He reached out and touched her arm. “He's protective of you. Just like me.” He wasn’t jealous of it, the opposite. Veronica deserved it.<br/><br/>“No, it’s not okay. I mean you’re my boyfriend and I want him to like you.” He smiled at her. He just wanted whatever it was that made her happy.</p><p>"Think they'll ban you from seeing me?" She laughed.</p><p>"Yes! And they'll tell me I have to choose between you and my trust fund!" She laughed, he glared at her. "Oh, come on, hardly. I'd love to see them try. They're not sitcom parents after all." He smiled, it was his only real concern.</p><p>“Hey, come here.” Veronica let him pull her into his arms and JD leaned against his car door as Veronica pressed against him. “Do you love me?”<br/><br/>“I do.”<br/><br/>“That’s all I need.” He pulled her towards him at the waste and they kissed for a minute, bodies pressed closely together. She wished they could sneak away for a little more, but her parents were waiting inside.</p><p>Mr. Sawyer was at the window glaring at the mangy dressed, far too tall, ill-mannered boy who had the nerve to kiss his daughter like that outside his home on that piece of shit car of his. “I don’t like that boy Sylvia. I don’t like him at all.”<br/><br/>“Well, you made that clear tonight!" Mr. Sawyer had the decency to be at least a little ashamed of his actions that night. There was just something about that boy that made him go nuts. His wife turned to him. "Look, he’s not- he’s not my choice for her either but Bill, you were never going to like any boy she brought home. She’s your only baby girl.” A part of him knew that was true and knew it to be unfair. Who was ever going to live up to the expectations he had for Veronica?<br/><br/>“Well, this one especially. What were those clothes? Clean and neat is now unfashionable? Nice shoes out of vogue? Is it too much to ask a boy to wear a nice jacket and tie to meet your girlfriend’s parents? To say nothing of that ugly coat of his! Who does he think he is? Marlon freakin’ Brando in The Wild One?!”<br/><br/>“That isn't even Marlon Brando, I think the kids call it 'post-punk' right now, I'm not sure." He glared at her. "Oh Bill, they made fun of us back when we were young about our clothes. I once wore love beads and have owned gaucho pants for god's sake and you owned bell bottoms. Seriously? You wanted him in a jacket and tie? You sound like my father.” He ignored her very truthful statement.<br/><br/>“And his father? We invited him too, did he even ask him?” Sylvia Sawyer sighed, knowing there was more to it than the surface.</p><p>“He clearly doesn’t get along with him Bill.”<br/><br/>“Oh please, and that’s the kind of boy you want her with? The kind that doesn’t get along with his father? That gets into fights?”</p><p>“He may not be a good man, we don’t know. A lot of kids come from bad homes unfortunately. I don’t like being judgmental of that. Veronica will be inside in a minute so stop it. Stop it right now. What are we going to do, ban her from seeing him?”<br/><br/>“For a start!”</p><p>“What, and make them think they’re Romeo and Juliet all of a sudden? Can’t you tell?” She looked out the window at the two of them staring at each other like they were Ali McGraw and Ryan O’Neal in Love Story and clucked her tongue in a mixture of dismay and worry-- this wasn’t her vision of the boy she would bring home either-- and empathy that her daughter’s feelings were valid. “She’s crazy about him. She’s not going to break up with him just because we tell her too and that’s not the kind of parent I want to be. We don’t have ownership over her body. That’s the kind of thinking my parents had over me and it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Besides, she’ll just sneak around and lie to us if we do and I definitely don’t want that. I don’t like this boy much either but we can’t control her, she’ll be eighteen in March. She’s going to have to decide for herself who to date and we can’t criticize it or we might… we might lose her.”<br/><br/>“You think we should just let this carry on?”<br/><br/>“Yes. I do. She’s young. Besides, if we don’t interfere it could just fizzle out naturally.”</p><p>They heard the loud and angry music start and the car screech off. He needed a new muffler, her father bitterly thought.</p><p>Veronica walked in the door and saw that her parents were unnaturally sitting in the living room. Ugh, she realized, they were watching her kiss JD goodnight.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m tuckered out,” Veronica melodramatically yawned and tried to head to her room.<br/><br/>“Veronica. Sit down,”her mother said and she did. </p><p>“You’ll be eighteen soon. You need to make your own decisions,” her mother told her.</p><p>“I know that.”<br/><br/>“Those decisions include who you date or spend time with. We--” she squeezed her father’s hand. “We can only tell you our opinions, we can not tell you what to do," she told both Veronica and her father.<br/><br/>“I just think… you should be careful. Okay sweetie?”<br/><br/>“He’s a good guy mom, really.”</p><p>“I know. I know when you’re your age it’s the all encompassing feeling but--” Her father started.<br/><br/>“Dad, don’t condescend to me. He’s smart. Really smart. And funny and he likes me a lot. I- I like him a lot too. And you were completely unfair to him,” she told him.</p><p>He sighed, she wasn't completely wrong. He wasn't fair to him. “Peanut… I just want you to be safe and well cared for. That’s all.”</p><p>“Dad, I am.”<br/><br/>“It’s just, boys like that…” He said, not even sure what he meant by that.<br/><br/>“Boys like what?” She asked, a little sharper than she meant to. “Why are you talking to me like I’m stupid and naive for wanting to be with him?” Quickly her mother interceded.</p><p>“You’re father just means that we worry," her mother said trying to be more diplomatic. "We also know you are probably thinking about, well,” she coughed. “You’re probably thinking about becoming more, um, <em> intimate </em> with this boy…” Her father gasped, not having even considered the possibility but now the panic truly gripped him.</p><p>Veronica stared at her mother and blinked not wanting this discussion. <em> Oh mom… if only you knew. </em></p><p>“Um, mom, really-- we do not need to do this talk again.” Her talk involved gardens and tending them and there was a horrific book from the 70s with natural drawings...</p><p>“Just, please promise me you won’t let him pressure you in anyway? If he really likes you he’ll respect your wishes in that guard. And also to be safe.” <em> Oh mom... your daughter was the one who pounced on him... </em></p><p>"You don't have to worry about that mom, trust me."<br/><br/>"Oh good," she said.</p><p>Her father returned to the conversation as soon as the <em>intimacy </em>talk was over. He looked at her daughter's face. <em>Oh god, she is in love with this boy.</em> He sighed. "Okay, peanut. For your sake I'll try harder. I trust you. If you see a good guy, than I can try to as well." He would try, he didn't have to love the boy, but he could try.</p><p>"Thanks dad." She went over and kissed him, before kissing her mother and heading up to her room.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Saturday Afternoon...</em>
</p><p>Mr. Sawyer pulled up in front of the rental home on the opposite side of town. He was vaguely familiar with the newer addition. All the homes looked the same. This addition to Sherwood was put up sometime in the late 70s and done cheaply and quickly. They were rented monthly, not sold out right. All of them were small split levels with a small porch. They were so far out on the outskirts they didn’t so much as have backyards as they just had woods behind them. He parked his station wagon on the street and got out. He took a deep breath as he rang the doorbell. He had decided to do this after the disastrous dinner on Tuesday and was trying to make amends and hopefully have a word with the boy's father to see what kind of man he was and see if perhaps the boy wasn't as bad as he thought he was for Veronica. He had told his wife that he thought he ought to do it alone at first, after all it was himself who'd been the least kind to the boy.</p><p>It was a minute later when the door answered. A tall man about his own age answered the door. He could see the familial resemblance. He was tall, same coloring. He had the same color hair as his son, albeit thinner with age and graying. He also had the tell tale sign of a gut all men tended to get after 40. It was Saturday after all so he had on jeans and a long sleeved work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Can I help you?” He asked.</p><p>“Mr. Dean, is it?” Bud Dean looked the middle aged man down. He was moderate height, thinning hair, and lean with a small gut. He wore glasses and combed his thinning black hair neatly with a brown short coat on.<br/><br/>“You’re not a Mormon are you?” He asked leaning against the door frame.</p><p>“Um, no. They wear name tags. No name-tags and white shirts with black ties are the Jehovah Witnesses. My family’s Presbyterian technically.” The joke didn’t really go over. To be fair, it was a terrible joke.</p><p>“Sorry, I lived in Salt Lake City for a few months. Can’t tell you how many times a week I got my doorbell rang by them.” There was a pause. “So, is there something I can help you with?”<br/><br/>“My name is Bill. Bill Sawyer.” The man didn’t seem to recognize the last name. “I’m Veronica’s father.” He stuck his hand out to say hello but there wasn't any recognition of the name to his surprise. “Um, your son and my daughter are dating?” He hesitated, wondering if he was even aware of this himself.<br/><br/>“Veronica?” Oh, yes, he remembered, that pretty brunette in a mini skirt his son was sleeping with. “Oh yeah, that girl my son’s been hanging around.” He awkwardly shook the other man’s hand. He opened the door and stood to the side. “Come in.” He walked to the kitchen, threw his empty can away and took a beer out from the fridge. “Can I get you one?” Bill was a bit surprised to be offered a beer like that at eleven o’clock in the morning, but he was a Midwesterner and politeness in someone else's home offering hospitality was second nature to him.</p><p>“Normally a bit early for me, but I guess it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” Bud Dean didn’t laugh at Bill Sawyer’s dad joke. Bud Dean had never made a dad joke in his life. He took the beer as a gesture of hospitality. The two men opened their cans and where Bill took a light sip he noticed Bud taking a gulp, he also couldn’t help but notice the few empties already in the trash.</p><p>“She’s not here if you’re looking for her. His car was gone when I woke up this morning.”<br/><br/>“Yes, I know, he came by to pick her up at ten. She said they were going to a comic book store and lunch and would be back by dinner.” He was surprised that he had more information on his son’s whereabouts than his own father. He chided himself, remembering his wife telling him not to make such snap judgements based on appearances. It was hard though when he looked around the home and saw unpacked suitcases and boxes and nothing of a personal touch to the home. There were no pictures and not even a plant. The man in front of him was quite famous for destroying things and the judgmental side of him saw he was also in the middle of destroying his liver by the looks of it. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk to you about the two of them and, well, their relationship.” Bud Dean sighed.</p><p>“So what did my idiot kid do?” He eyed him. “Oh god, she’s not pregnant is she?” Cold shock went through Mr. Sawyer’s body. That wasn’t even on his list of worries with this boy, but now it was suddenly number one. “I’ll pay for it if that’s--”<br/><br/>“No, no, nothing like that," he took a sip of the beer, trying to allay that paternal fear. "It’s well… well, the fight he got into on Monday.”<br/><br/>“Fight?” He asked. It was the first time he had heard anything about it.</p><p>“Yes, the one with the other boy. Veronica got caught in the scuffle and hurt her arm.” Bud looked surprised, but Bill kept his cool. He had decided the best approach was to talk to him father to father, and not lay any accusations of his son’s character at his feet. After all, he had agreed with his wife that banning her from him or ending their relationship through parental involvement was not the wisest course of action. He and his wife had decided that possibly talking it out with the man might ease a lot of their concerns. “She’s fine, it was an accident but… still. My wife and I were concerned and we were hoping you could see where we might be coming from. It wasn’t his first fight at school and he did get suspended--”<br/><br/>“He what?” Bud asked, shocked.<br/><br/>“You, uh, didn’t know about any of this?”</p><p>He swirled the beer in his can around. “No. No I didn’t.” He was going to have to have words with his idiot son when he got home.</p><p>“We invited you with him to dinner Tuesday night. I take it he didn’t tell you about that either?” So that’s where the Tupperware full of pot roast he’d eaten a few nights ago had come from, Bud realized. He had thought it odd to see food like that in his fridge.<br/><br/>“No. He didn’t.” There were apparently a lot of things his son was hiding from him lately. Bud Dean didn’t like secrets in his house.</p><p>Bill tried to maintain his stance of civility and neighborliness but he couldn’t help it, the more he was in this man’s home the more he could see why perhaps his son didn’t care for him or get along with him. What man didn’t have a picture of his child anywhere in a home on display? Or of his deceased wife? But his job wasn’t to worry about the home life of Jason Dean, it was to worry about the safety of Veronica Sawyer and so long as this young man was a part of her life his priority was to worry about his effect on her.</p><p>“My wife and I empathize. We do. I don’t know what it’s like to be a single parent and I’m sorry that you do. It’s just… Veronica’s a good girl. She gets good grades and has never been in a lick of trouble her whole life. She’s sweet and--”</p><p>“If your daughter’s such a good girl, why's she hanging around my boy?” The insult stung Bill quite harshly. What was he implying…?</p><p>“Excuse me?” He asked the man, not liking hearing his daughter’s name besmirched like that. “I haven’t said a word against your son’s character. I am merely concerned his behavior is putting my daughter into some sticky situations she shouldn’t be in.” Bud took his can and wandered into the living room, changing the subject. He had forgotten that fathers of daughters like Veronica often didn’t want to admit it.</p><p>“My apologies. She seems like a nice girl.” He changed the subject. “What do you do for a living?”</p><p>“Accountant,” he said. “I have a little storefront down on main with Jack Finn.”<br/><br/>“Sawyer and Fin Accounting? How Twainsian.”<br/><br/>“We thought so too.” Bill and Jack were quite proud of their pun. Bill noticed the tattoo on his arm. “1/30/68 - 9/23/68” it had four stars around it. He’d seen similar tattoos on other men and knew what that dates meant. </p><p>“You see the Tet Offensive?” He asked, carefully pointing to the tattoo. Bud hadn’t realized his shirt had been rolled up, he usually didn’t like talking about that. The four stars were for the four men he knew that died during it.</p><p>“You do any time in the army Bill?” He asked, curiously. Bill was taken aback, surprised at the turn of the conversation, regretting he had asked it. “I was there ‘67-’71.”<br/><br/>“Um, no,” Bill said, afraid where this might go. “I got into Kent State before my lotto number came up.” <em> Of course he got out of it. </em></p><p>“Kent?” He asked, remembering what that school was famous for. “Wait, what years?”<br/><br/>“‘66 - ‘70.”</p><p>“‘70? Shit, you on campus when--?”<br/><br/>“Yes. Yes I was.” Bill didn’t like talking about that day some kids ran from the Common's screaming at everyone else to run because the National Guard had opened fire and four kids were dead. He thought it surely must have been untrue. When he and his friends went to look and he heard the more gunshots and saw everyone running… “Horrible day.” Bud snorted.</p><p>“Maybe they should have dispersed when they were told.” White hot fire went through Bill Sawyer’s veins when he said that. <em> He couldn’t possibly believe that. </em></p><p>“Four kids died that day. They were unarmed students peacefully protesting,” he said through clenched jaws. <em> Don’t get into it. </em> “That’s not what I’m here to discuss. I'm sorry.” How the hell do conversations with people his age always lead back to the 60s and where they were?<br/><br/>“Why are you here then? Want me to tell my son to stay away from your sweet daughter?” Bill Sawyer didn’t think it was possible, but he suddenly liked this man’s son a hell of a lot better than the man in front of him-- and he still wasn’t warm to the idea of him dating his daughter. He understood a bit, at least, why he maybe didn't want to invite him to dinner on Tuesday.</p><p>“I just wanted to talk to you and see what you thought of the situation. If the kids want to date then I want to meet his family.” Bud Dean eyed the accountant and realized quite clearly he was being judged by him. He didn’t appreciate his son bringing complications or the judgments of others into his life.</p><p>“Look, I’ve got a few more jobs here lined up than another one in December in Virginia. We’ll be gone by then so you won’t have to worry about him around her for long.” Bill was shocked by that. </p><p>“So soon after arriving?” As much as he didn’t like this boy Bill Sawyer suddenly felt an intense amount of pity for him meeting his father. All that moving around, the angry chip the man clearly had on his shoulder, the clear feeling he got that that one beer was not his first of the day nor close to being his last… And to think spending senior year of high school at several different schools? No wonder the boy didn't have concrete plans for his future. “Well, I won’t bother you any further. Like I said, I just wanted to meet you. Have a good day.” He took one more sip of the beer than left the half filled can on the table and exited unsure of what to make of that strange encounter.</p><p>He was even more unsure of what to think of his daughter hanging around this boy.</p><p>As soon as Bud heard the car drive away he gulped down the rest of his, then finished the half empty can Bill Sawyer had left behind. <em> That boy better be home tonight, </em>Bud Dean thought as he reached for the Jim Bean.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Next week, "The Appointment" which occurs simultaneously as the second half of this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Appointment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD goes to his appointment.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I want to first thank everybody as usual for their comments and kudos. ALWAYS. I doubt I would be as committed to writing this not knowing I've got people reading and enjoying.  <a href="https://bit.ly/3efBPbV">
    <em>THANK YOU.
</em>
  </a></p><p> </p><p>Secondly? I want to emphatically state I am not an expert on mental health. Therapy is an on-going process and not a quick fix it. Especially for trauma. That being said, I've read many things about inter-generational trauma among veterans of Vietnam with their kids and I wanted to include that because I find it interesting and a different angle to approach his character than many others have done. Again, NOT an expert. This is humbly my attempt to try and show him getting help. No offense is intended and please be advised in advance if any of the tags are a possible trigger for you.</p><p>There are two passages from Tim O'Brien, properly credited-- obviously I do not have ownership of those. Also "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" is an Iron Butterfly song and yes, it's 17 minutes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>Do dreams offer lessons? Do nightmares have themes, do we awaken and analyze them and live our lives and advise others as a result? Can the foot soldier teach anything important about war, merely for having been there? I think not. He can tell war stories.”</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>― Tim O'Brien (If I Die in a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home)</em> </b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> New York City, 1971</em>
</p><p>“In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby, don't you know that I want you? In-a-gadda- da-vida, honey, Don't you know that I'll always be true?”<em> The psychedelic song on the jukebox played as Bud Dean watched the pretty girl with long dark brown hair and a fringe vest and mini-skirt and go-go boots dance to the guitar solo. He had been stateside less than a week and decided to stay in New York for a few months. One of the guys in his unit who’d come back first recommended him for some construction company and the money was good. Besides, it was nice to be in a big and exciting American city instead of Da Nang. </em></p><p>
  <em> She was clearly trained as she was spinning and moving her legs in an expert fashion as her friend clapped along to her and she laughed, probably already a little buzzed. She stopped as the drum solo began-- it was a seventeen minute song after all-- and she and her friend breathlessly walked back to the table their drinks and coats were at. Her friend pointed to another man at the bar and she laughed as she told her to go for it. He took the opportunity of her being alone to get up from the bar with his beer in hand and walk towards her to try and buy her a drink.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Baby killer,” a man with long hair and fringe jacket said. Bud clenched his beer and tried to control his temper and hurt. He had wrongly believed wearing his tags and coat would get doors open but to his surprise it had not. He’d been met at worst with blind contempt, and at best willful ignorance and a need to ignore. The insult deeply hurt, but he was getting used to it. One of the many things he didn’t expect when he got back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck off Devon!” she said back to him to his surprise. “The war’s awful and illegal, but don’t take your anger out on him! He didn’t start it.” The hippy sauntered off and Bud just took the opportunity to join the girl at her table.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s fine. Have to get used to the change. Left in ‘66 for training, got back two weeks ago-- whole damn country’s different.” He took a sip of his beer and fiddled for his cigarettes. He offered one to the pretty girl and she took one. He lit hers than his. </em>
</p><p><em>"You can say that again. I barely recognize this place sometimes. I don't even wear a bra that much anymore." He coughed a smidgen on his drink and she laughed, loving the rise she got out of him before she got sober.</em> <em> “It’s just it makes me mad when they take it out on you guys personally-- My cousin died over there,” she confessed suddenly. “His number came up only a month after graduating high school." She shook her head, realizing how morose that came off. "Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I want one night of not talking about the god awful war, and the same arguments, you know? Bet you feel the same.” He stared at her, assessing her.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, different country. Not all of it bad,” he said, checking her out. He liked the shorter skirts and the bolder women, that was for sure. She stared at him. He had nice eyes and a crooked smile.  </em>
</p><p><em> “What’s your name?” </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> “Dean, formerly lieutenant I guess. Benjamin, but uh, everyone calls me Bud. ‘Big Bud’ was what they called me in the army." He laughed. Stupid name. She was clearly from around here, not the south. Nobody up here calls people, 'Bud.' "I know, stupid nickname.” </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> “Benjamin. Nice to meet you. ‘Big Bud’ though.” She laughed. “It’s a far out name. What? Because you’re tall?” </em> No, <em> he thought, </em> because I used too much C4 when we-- </p><p><em> “Yeah, I guess so,” he lied. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> “Wild. I’m gonna dance on Broadway. I’ve already been on a few dance lines. Mostly smaller shows though. I got some big auditions coming up though.” </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> “I bet you could. You were beautiful out there.” She stared at him, something about him. She felt bad for those guys who had come back from the war, they didn’t want to be there and they had come back so damaged. The look in his eye turned and he smiled. “Vodka soda or whiskey sour?” He had a great smile, crooked and it matched with his sparkling eyes, absolutely attractive. She smiled back, hypnotized by his charm and looks. </em></p><p>
  <em> “You don’t even ask a girl if you can buy her a drink first? Pretty cocky there, aren’t-cha?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Vodka soda or whiskey sour?” He asked again, persistent. He had become accustomed in his youth to his smile working on pretty girls. </em>
</p><p><em> She looked him over. Tall, forthright… </em> Yeah, <em> she thought, </em>why not?</p><p>
  <em> “Gin and tonic actually. And the name's Valerie. Valerie Morgenstern. He smiled and went to the bar and ordered another round for them and went back to her table with it. She nodded to her friend to let her know it was cool. She winked and returned to flirt with one of the guys at the bar. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They had that drink… and she had three more. They ended up back in her apartment kissing intoxicated, but aware of her actions, and knowing the night would end like this as soon as she accepted that drink. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Ohio, 1989</em>
</p><p>JD found himself in an office that did not look like what he had always thought a therapist's office would look like. There was a comfy chair for one, not a couch, and bright airy windows that were wide open letting the light in to the 10th floor. You could kind of see the office buildings across, but not enough to snoop. He was staring out the window, waiting for whomever this doctor was. Veronica didn’t tell him how she’d found this guy or why but after the incident at school and his promise--</p><p>He’d come to it for her. He knew it was crazy, he hadn’t known her that long, but he knew he couldn’t lose her and he’d do anything to keep her and to keep her safe. If that meant coming here then he would. It didn’t mean he had to sit here and cry his soul out to the guy or tell him anything he didn’t want to. The last eight years of his life had been spent building up walls and while he had so far opened a small cloudy window for Veronica to peer through it didn’t mean the entire fort was going to be bulldozed over.</p><p>A man about his father’s age entered the office. He wore glasses and kept his thinning gray dirty blond hair a bit on the longer side. He had a slight limp in one of his legs and wore a cheap dress shirt under a cheap green sweater vest with slacks and loafers like some kind of Mister Rogers.</p><p>“Jason… Dean? Correct?" He looked up from his file. "Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a new patient.” He smiled pleasantly enough as JD looked him up and down. He pulled his chair out from behind the desk and sat it near the comfy armchair he had supposed was meant for him to sit in. “Please, sit down.” He motioned to the seat.<br/><br/>“JD,” he corrected quickly, not sitting down. JD was too busy inspecting the pictures and paraphernalia on the wall trying to figure the guy out before he even opened his mouth. He had expected the office to be blank, but instead it was covered in pictures, awards, and other knickknacks. <em> Other patients? </em>He thought. He glanced back at the man in front of him and back to the pictures, realizing he was in many of them, albeit much younger.</p><p>The doctor on the other hand did sit down and picked up his coffee mug and sipped it before putting it down. “JD it is then,” he said, making a note on his notepad. He carefully watched JD inspect the pictures, and posters on the wall as he studied the young man in front of him.</p><p>Dr. Beckett didn’t normally take teenage patients but there was something rather odd about the young lady who had called him out of the blue to make the appointment. He didn’t believe in things like fate or happenstance but… it was strange when he got the request, it was like a voice in his head had told him that it was the right thing to do… it was crazy, he knew it, but-- why not find out why? He was also rather curious because it wasn’t a parent, a social worker, or a school counselor calling as one would expect for a seventeen year old. The young lady in question was waiting in his outer office for him and he didn’t see a parent anywhere in sight even if the paper work listed a “Benjamin Dean” as the only living guardian and a deceased mother. A work number had been listed on the check the young man had handed in with the paper work and the business was listed as "Big Bud Dean Demolition Company, LLC." He recognized the crazy commercials that ran often late night on TV and looked at what he realized was the man's nearly adult son. He pocketed that piece of the puzzle away as he began his first session with the young man.</p><p>“So, you’ll have to forgive me. I didn’t get much information about you before the appointment like I normally like to. Especially for someone your age.” JD shrugged and continued assessing the pictures.</p><p>“You’re seventeen, and in your senior year, correct?” JD non-committed nodded.</p><p>“Okay, and I have a father listed but a mother as… deceased? Is that correct?” His heart mildly stopped at the mention of his mother, but nodded anyway.</p><p>“How recent was the event, if I can ask?” It wasn't hard to wonder if perhaps this was one of the reasons he was here today. Grief of a loss of parent at any age was hard, but for someone as young as he was it could be formative. JD felt the sore tooth of that pain throb at the mild poking and decided to not answer the question.</p><p>“You were in ‘nam?” JD asked, dodging the question and pointing at some of the military paraphernalia and pictures on the wall. He had recognized some of the army logos and distinctions. The doctor discretely wrote down a note about the avoidance of bringing up his mother and asking about the army pictures.<br/><br/>“‘67-’69," he responded, curious why out of all the things in his office the young man picked up on that first. "Yep. Wasn’t much older than you are. Barely graduated high school before my lotto number was called.” He looked back at him realizing he was probably only a few years younger than his own father.</p><p>“Must have sucked." JD paused. “My dad started in ‘66 and was shipped there ‘67-’71.” It had come out of nowhere, but anything was better than talking about his mom.<br/><br/>“Oh yeah? Woof, long stint. He enlist?” he asked, barely hiding his psychologist's gears from turning. JD nodded. “I was in the regular army, just a grunt. What did he do?”<br/><br/>He laughed. “Demolition, what else? Army engineer corps. Not the tunnel monkeys though, regular demolition. C4 was his favorite as he always tells me. He volunteered for the program before his number came up thinking he’d learn a skill at least if he had to go. He didn’t have the money for college or the connections to get into an easier service. He said he’d rather do that than be one of the grunts on the field. So I guess we can thank Uncle Sam for his knowledge in blowing shit up.” Gears, yes, they were turning. Dr. Beckett took his usual approach when discussing this period.</p><p>“It was difficult for a lot of guys. Hard to explain to you kids even though it wasn’t too long ago. There wasn’t a clear reason we were there. It wasn’t fighting to protect your own people. We got called up with little explanation other than for ‘god and country.’ We had a lot of our double you double you two dads telling us it was our duty. The government never did get that they were in the middle of a civil war and we didn’t have any business being there. A lot of us were just barely kids. It was messy and awful all around.”</p><p>JD glared away. He’d head that speech or a version of it his whole life. Everyone from his post-hippy generation had heard it. He turned to another photo on the wall. “This you here too? Marching on DC?” He was referring to a photo of a couple of guys with arms around each other in front of the Lincoln Monument, all in pseudo military garb and hippy gear.</p><p>“Yep. I joined Vietnam Veterans Against the War when I got discharged in ‘70. Thought it was the right thing to do.”</p><p>JD eyed him purposefully. “Does it ever bother you?”<br/><br/>“What?<br/><br/>“That they didn’t listen to you guys? Your protests and work fell on deaf ears? They ended the war when they felt like it, not because you asked them to? I mean, Time Life can package nostalgia all they like but most of the country just wanted to <em>Turn On, Tune in, and Drop Out</em>, right?” JD knew exactly what he was doing. Dr. Beckett paused, considering the teenager in front of him. He was smart, very smart and used to adults being very easy to manipulate. He considered his answer and talked honest to him. He briefly wondered how many adults had ever taken that approach with him.</p><p>“Yes. It does bother me. And yes, most Americans didn’t want to think too hard about any of it. And if you want to know the truth I think they were only mad about their own kids being brought home in body bags and not so much about the Vietnamese children being burned by agent orange and napalm.” </p><p>JD was a bit taken aback by his honesty. He was used to pushing the right buttons to get a rise out of adults. They were easy, like the dipshit chem teacher, Mr. Jennings or the burned out Vice Principal, Keene. It didn’t help that the Baby Boomers were very easy to bruise, especially the white male ones. They had grown up in post-war splendor and they loved playing the revolutionary but lacked the follow through and bailed when the fight got hard reverting back to the status quo. He knew how to goad them, just bring up some inadequacies, mention their failed dreams. Adults aren’t hard. He had an occasional run-in with a school shrink here or there who actually glanced at his transcripts who worried about his frequent moves and deceased mother. He was pretty good at “beating” the shrinks though into thinking he was normal to get them to leave him alone.</p><p>Dr. Beckett was not one of those adults.</p><p>He lowered his glasses and looked at the teenager in black clothes, motorcycle boots, and a trench coat on the coat rack. He was just as good at summing up people as he was. “JD, I kind of like you. You seem to be a smart young man and here’s the thing-- I know what you’re doing. There’s no 'beating' a psychologist. I’m not here to trap you or to put a ‘crazy’ label on you. That young lady who called me is very caring and smart. And Pushy. Also very pushy.” JD snorted at that. She was. “She asked me to talk to you, that’s all. I know you’re only here to make her happy. I also know that she forged the paperwork with your father’s signature on it.” JD darted his eyes up, a bit worried. "Thankfully, she’s quite talented so I’m putting my ethical issues to the side on that matter to talk to you and you’ll be 18 soon enough. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever had a client forge paperwork so they could underage sign up for therapy sessions. I kind of admire it." He paused and pulled out what he suspected was a forged check. "The payment will be another matter, we can work out somehow." He handed him the check back un-cashed. "I'm not about to lose my practice if your father finds out I cashed that check, nor do I want you kids in trouble with check fraud." JD looked at least slightly frightened by the idea of getting into legal trouble. "I do a sliding scale on a case by case basis so I’ll take yours into consideration and we'll work something out. My point is, if we’re in here for an hour then perhaps we can make good use out of it and not think of this as some kind of contest of wills. Frankly, I’m a bit too tired for that.” JD paused at that speech. It had been a long time since he hadn’t been able to “fool” or annoy an inquiring adult away from him and he had to admit it intrigued him. "Aren't you?" He didn't respond to that.</p><p>“What do you want me to talk about then?” JD asked honestly. “My parents and how they messed me up? My dreams? School?” He came off a bit hostile but he didn’t mean to.<br/><br/>“If you want to. Probably wouldn’t hurt to get around to all those things when you’re ready. As far as dreams go, well, I think we put too much emphasis on dream meaning. Unless they’re troubling you we can skip how often you dream of taking a test naked, or building a garage with your neighbors from when you were six.” It got a small laugh out of JD. “Whatever you want to talk about JD, I’m just someone here to listen.” JD sighed and sat down, feeling a bit of a weight lift from him, but not ready to let any real walls come down any time soon.</p><p>“I’m here because my girlfriend thought it was a good idea.” He shrugged, not meeting the man in the eye. Dr. Becket smiled.</p><p>“Ah, that young lady waiting outside? The one that called me is your girlfriend?” He took a note on his clipboard. JD eyed it uncomfortably but nodded. “How long have you been together?” He asked, conversationally.<br/><br/>“Couple of weeks.” He wrote it down again.<br/><br/>“You love her already though, right?” He asked making a quick assessment.</p><p>“I know it sounds--” He stopped him.</p><p>“I’m not going to ever tell you your feelings are invalid. I think all love is real, no matter the age of the people or the time they’ve known each other. Love is love and if you feel it, you feel it.” JD relaxed a smidgen, still taking in the man and realizing he was different than most adults.</p><p>“Why did she want you to come here though? Did something happen recently? An incident?” He thought long and hard at how to answer the question.</p><p>“I got into a fight at school.”<br/><br/>“Oh? A physical one?” JD nodded. “Does that happen often? With the same people?”<br/><br/>“Guy was a prick and he was bothering her. Such a prick. He bothers a lot of people. Hounds the girls at school-- not just Veronica-- and lives for emasculating the guys who are weaker than him. His buddy too.”<br/><br/>“The bullies make you mad then?”<br/><br/>“Of course they do. They’re assholes. It’s not right that decent people just trying to make it through the day have to put up with their cruelty.”<br/><br/>“Do you feel anger often?”<br/><br/>“No more than anyone else should looking around the world.” He wrote some things down and considered his next question. The back and forth began, JD guarded, Dr. Beckett prying but respectful. It felt... not uncomfortable, he realized and not quite the hell he imagined it would be going in. He avoided the two real elephants in the room-- his father and his mother-- but he still didn't fight the answers as much as he would have going in.</p><p>“Can I ask you an odd question?" Dr. Beckett asked, suddenly. "This way you dress, it just happened by accident?” He suddenly felt very self-aware of his clothing choices in a way he never really had before. He didn’t normally give it much thought, just clothes he’d picked up along the way at different used shops and random stores and started wearing.<br/><br/>“It’s just the way I dress.”</p><p>“I know we aren’t supposed to judge people by their covers but, well, we all do. We all dress to give people impressions of ourselves or to be seen a certain way. You judged me I’m sure by this well-crafted look.” He plucked at his own sweater and glasses. “Sweater vest, glasses, simple slacks, loafers-- I wear this because it’s non-threatening and it puts patients at ease. Black clothes, motorcycle boots, trench coat… some of that is aesthetic I’m sure-- I’ve seen the MTV-- but if that isn’t one giant wall to keep people out than--”</p><p>“It’s just-- it’s just a way to dress,” he got, mildly defensive. A timer went off.</p><p>“Shoot," Dr. Beckett said honestly, thinking he may have made some good headway with him. "I’m afraid the time is up for today. This was good. I look forward to seeing you again." He paused, looking at the young man putting his coat on and his notes. "How would you feel about coming in twice a week for awhile to get to know each other better?”<br/><br/>“Huh?”<br/><br/>“Wednesdays, after school as well as Saturdays? Like I said, we’ll work out a sliding scale or something to that effect.” JD considered it. Wednesday was actually a good day to get an afternoon away from everything. Veronica had told him she needed the library with Martha on Wednesdays and often his dad only worked half days and was home earlier then. Usually he’d bum around the 7/11 or a bookstore to get away but the long drive was good too. Wednesday was new comics day too. He could pick up new issues for him and Veronica, maybe hit the used book store and have another excuse to drive into the city after school.</p><p>“Okay,” he agreed. The doctor was pleased.</p><p>“Good. One more thing. I want to give you something I think you might like to read. Hold on…” He rooted through a stack of books and handed him something. It looked like a novel. <em> If I Die in a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home </em> it was called. “Interesting book. A memoir. Just curious what you think. It’s not long, think you can finish it up by Wednesday?” He looked at the page count and type font.<br/><br/>“We’ll see. I’ll try.”<br/><br/>“There is no try, only do,” he said, quoting Yoda. JD snorted. He didn’t want to like the guy, but whatever. A new book was a new book.</p><p><em>And this </em> <em> all makes Veronica happy at the end of the day. </em></p><p>He exited the office and saw Veronica sitting there waiting, finishing up the issue of Sandman they had bought earlier that day before lunch. She smiled at him when she realized he was out. <em> This all makes Veronica happy </em>, he repeated to himself, unwilling to explore if there was even a possibility it might make him happier as well.</p><p>They were silent in the car as JD and Veronica drove back to Sherwood. It was growing dark and he turned his headlights on. They hadn’t said much at all since they walked out of the office and started the drive back home. She was fiddling with the radio stations since they had hit the new frequency range and slipped in a tape instead. She smiled at him and blushed as the Violent Femmes self titled album played "Prove Your Love" and they both remembered what he had been doing when they first listened to that song together.</p><p>“You’re not going to ask me anything about it?” He finally asked her as he drove.</p><p>“Only if you want me to,” she replied, flipping the tape back to the front side. “You really don’t have to.” He had his left hand on the wheel and the other nervously tapping his leg as they drove. Gently she took that hand and brought it to her lips before cuddling it sweetly in her lap, entwining their fingers together. “As long as you want to go I’ll never pester you further about it.” He squeezed her hand back.</p><p>“He asked if I could go in on Wednesdays too. I told him yes.” He didn’t elaborate.</p><p>“Sounds like a plan.” She held on to his hand and smiled out the window. Whatever happened could only lead to change and betterment for both of them, she realized but she was still tentative in her hope. For right now she'd ride in silence, cradling his hand in hers.</p><p>He pulled up in front of her house and she unbuckled her belt and turned to him. "I read half of them while you were inside. Take those and we'll trade back on Monday?" He laughed and agreed. She smiled and leaned in for her goodnight kiss.</p><p>A kiss that progressed pretty further than a simple goodbye kiss should-- to both their welcome delight-- when JD slightly angled himself and opened his eyes...</p><p>...to see a light in her window and her father staring at them in the car. Carefully-- and reluctantly-- he parted from her kiss and moved her wandering hand somewhere it couldn't excite him further. "You're dad's watching us." She sat back with a flop, embarrassed.</p><p>She laughed as she quickly fixed her clothes. "Soon?" She asked him, implying what her-- and probably his too-- body was looking for.</p><p>"Definitely." He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Remember that movie and pizza I promised you?"</p><p>"My date?" Her face lit up.</p><p>"Friday night?" She smiled back at him and nodded.</p><p>"Definitely." She pecked his cheek and waved at him as she exited his car. He watched her as she bounced into her house and opened the door. He turned the key to his ignition as he saw her father watch him from the doorway and drove off.</p><p>JD got home around eight after a very long day and a pit stop for a quiet dinner at McDonald's and a slush from the 7/11 before heading back to his dreary home hoping for a quiet night of reading in his bed. The whole day had left him quite drained. The last thing he counted on was his dad being right there when he got home. </p><p>Especially when he got shoved from behind when he locked the door behind him. “What the hell?!” He responded, caught off guard and stumbling.</p><p>“You got suspended?” Quickly JD eyed the bottle of Jim Bean on the table mostly empty. <em> Oh fuck. It’s going to be one of those nights. </em></p><p>Bud shoved into his son again. JD didn’t fight back, but he held his ground. He wasn’t a scared six year old anymore clinging to his teddy bear and he wasn't going to run away scared or take his abuse. “It wasn’t a big deal. Some asshole was bothering Veronica and--”</p><p>“Ver-on-i-ca! That friggin’ girl! Jesus!” Blood suddenly boiled inside JD and he shoved his dad back, upset now not just over his typical abuse but the nasty way he referred to her and her name. “Well, well, well," he licked his lips, almost impressed. "Finally able to start fighting back, huh?”</p><p>“You’re not even going to remember this in the morning,” he snapped back pointing to the mostly empty bottle of Jim Bean and the empty beer cans in the trash trying to contain the rage and head up to the safety and isolation of his room.</p><p>“I don’t deserve to be judged by my ingrate son! Nor do I have to sit around and be judged by his girlfriend’s father!”</p><p><em> Fuck. </em>JD stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>“Yeah, got paid a little visit this afternoon. I don’t give two shits who you’re screwing but I don’t need anyone coming around here to judge me and tell me things that I had no idea about.” JD turned to him, and accepted the drunken poison that spilled from his father’s tongue. “Couldn’t invite your dear old dad over to meet your girlfriend’s family?”<br/><br/>“What does it matter?” He barked back, not wanting to let him cower him. “It’s not like you would’ve wanted to come.”</p><p>“What? You ashamed of me? Is that it now?” He walked over as JD tried to go to his room and gripped his arm-- hard-- and twisted it to make him turn back to him. He tried all of his power to resist him and not let him see the pain but it was difficult and that resistance just resulted in more pain. In blind response he ripped it away from him to have him let go. </p><p>“Don’t touch me like that.” An image in his mind of seeing bruises on his mother’s arm in the shape of his fingers burned into his mind. JD had no desire to talk to his father in this state. “Why don’t you just finish the bottle and go pass out?” </p><p>“That’s it! Give me your keys! I’m taking your car away!” He walked towards his room and thankfully the alcohol was starting to wear Bud Dean out a bit as he heard him stumble towards his son. It was enough to get him into his room, slam the door shut in his face and lock it behind him.</p><p>Ever since they started moving around he always made sure his door had a lock on it. And if it didn’t, he would install one of some sort on day one for this very reason. He heard the rattlings on the door and the pounding. “Open this right now!” JD’s anger rose in his throat but he’d had enough experience with his rages to just wait it out. There was a possibility he could break the door down but there was also a possibility he would give up, allowing the intoxication to over power even his rage. Sure enough, a few minutes later he heard some stumbling and the noise stopped. His arm was starting to hurt from where his dad had grabbed it but there wasn't much for it now. He couldn't go to the kitchen for ice yet not sure if he had truly passed out or not.</p><p>He made sure his car keys were in his coat pocket he still had on and out of his dad’s reach to be taken away from him. It was <em> his </em> car. <em> His. </em> It was the only freedom he had, the only thing that was truly his in this ever moving household and his only means of true escape and no matter who’s paycheck paid for it he was going to hold on to his ability to flee at will at any cost. </p><p>There had been a few times in the past in a fit of drunken rage his father had thrown them into the woods in the dark or locked them in his safety box to “punish” him as if it would “teach him a lesson” like some real parent would do. No, the lesson he learned was that no matter what “punishment” his father concocted the night of one of these benders he’d always forget completely by the morning, leaving JD hunting through the woods or picking open the safety box to retrieve his keys while he slept it off either honestly forgetting it-- or pretending to forget it-- to avoid the hangover guilt. They'd spend a few days avoiding talk completely as if he did feel honestly guilty about the incident. JD never knew if that was the case or not.</p><p>A strange part of him wished his father would get mad sober and stick to one of these punishments, but he never did. At least if he did that then he’d know if he cared when he wasn’t under the influence. He'd acted out a bit when he was little at school not long after his mother died. His father's response wasn't punishment or talking, but rather the first time he had been told to pack up and move. </p><p>He thought about sneaking out the window and going to Veronica’s but it had been a long day and he didn’t want to unload the garbage of a typical altercation on her. Monday he’d be back to picking her up for school as usual, lunch, maybe hang out for a bit after-- definitely pick up where their goodnight kiss had left off.<br/><br/>His mind focused on Veronica to forget about the altercation and his anger. He wished he had a photograph of her, something to hold on to-- something of her smiling looking at him the way she did full of light and life. He resolved to remedy that quickly. </p><p>She had waited in that waiting room the entire time he was in there today. He couldn’t articulate exactly what that meant to him, but it meant something. She was right, it hadn’t been the worst thing in the world to talk to someone and this dude, Dr. Beckett, he did seem different than a lot of the other “well meaning” adults that “cared” he had experienced in his lifetime. When he told him to come back on Wednesday it didn’t feel like a punishment. Who knew?</p><p>JD undressed for bed and opened his bag. He saw the stack of comics he had bought earlier in the day and wanted to lose himself in those. <em> Sandman, Hellblazer, Tank Girl, </em> and <em>  American Splendor </em> were among the stack they had bought. They were all nice meaty reads that he could look over a few times before he brought the stack to exchange with Veronica. Looking at them he also saw the book the shrink had given him. Something odd hit him and he took it out and put it next to his bed. </p><p>He already knew what tomorrow would be like. In the morning he’d get the seltzer water out of the fridge, make a pot of coffee, and leave the aspirin out for him. He’d probably be in bed ‘till noon or so then peter out looking for food before zoning out in front of the TV. JD would figure out something to do for the day to just be gone and not look at him for a while as his hangover seized him.</p><p>At least he was back at school on Monday. The thought strangely warmed the back of his mind. Not Westerberg, that cesspool, but picking Veronica up, going to lunch, hanging out afterwards… seeing her friends too, maybe? He quietly rummaged through one of his boxes for his old camera. He remembered he wanted a picture of her and found some unused film in the box too.</p><p>It just happened to be in the same box as a stack of old photos he had never been able to part with. Without thinking he picked them up carefully.</p><p>One was dated, February 1972. He was one week old, tiny as a button, and holding him was his mom-- pretty and serene as can be. She had on a white long sleeved button down blouse, and she held him and pressed her lips to his bald little head barely even aware the camera had gone off. Without a thought he traced the outline of her pretty face and the pearls around her neck. They seldom ever were off her neck.</p><p>The next one behind it was undated but from when he was a toddler. She held his hands and bent down laughing as he tottered on his legs on the verge of walking on his own. </p><p>Behind it was one when he was six. He was wearing a backpack and holding his lunchbox-- first day of school-- and she was standing next to him beaming a wide smile in her floral dress holding his other hand to lead him into school for the first time.</p><p>One when he was five, Christmas day-- she had gotten him a King Kong ski mask and mittens and he was posing with them and she looked on in mock fear as he pretended to scare her.</p><p>Halloween, 1979 with his plastic pumpkin, dressed as Luke Skywalker and the two were ready to head out to trick or treat….</p><p>He kept looking through the photos for the first time in years not even noticing the tears running down his face. It never occurred to him to wonder who had taken those photos and on that night he still didn’t. He was too wrapped up in the images of a lifetime long gone.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> New York, 1971 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Valerie woke up early, with a dry mouth and a small headache from the drinking. She smiled at the sight of his naked back and long muscular arm casually thrown over her, his mouth curled up against her neck. Memories of last night and the things the mouth had-- Despite the headache it had been fun. She gently removed his arm from around her and watched as he mumbled in his sleep and rolled away, his sleep undisturbed. She smiled and reconsidered him in the morning light. He was handsome with his messy brown hair and tall frame. That crooked smile of his and charming eyes had hypnotized her. As she grabbed a long night shirt from her laundry pile and slipped it on, she searched her feelings. He wasn’t the first man she’d ever brought home to sleep with and the more she replayed the events of the night before the more she found she didn’t regret it in the least. He was funny and charming. She was liberated and they had a good talk at her women’s group the other week about how they should never feel ashamed about going home with men they liked as long as they used protection. She was drunk last night, but she remembered to put in her diaphragm. Speaking of… she quickly went to the bathroom to clean it with soap and water and put it cleanly back in its case, tucked next to her jewelry box for the next time it was needed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She went to the tap and poured herself a glass of water and reached in her cabinet for the aspirin and quickly gulped them down. She filled her kettle with hot water and turned on the burner with a match for coffee. She returned to her mattress on the floor through the beads she used for a curtain that she had hung up in the door frame and stared at him asleep. Maybe this would be more than a one time event? She’d play it by ear. She did really love her bohemian life in the city and she worried that attaching herself to a man would ruin that. Even the most liberal man she’d been with still expected her to chuck it all in to be a wife and mother as soon as he was in the mood.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She watched him sleep as he started to shake and whimper in his sleep. “Fire! Fire!” He whispered with an intense fury. He must have smelled the matches and the burner. Quickly she turned off her stove forgetting about the coffee. He was still shaking. Distressed she knelt down in front of him and started to stroke the hair out of his eyes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Benjamin?” She asked, concerned. “Benjamin, it’s a dream. Wake up.” It hadn’t calmed him down. Her breath hitched. She’d heard of this from other girls she knew who’d gone out with guys who just got back. Her roommate told her that her brother had spent every night for at least a week on their parent's couch wide awake with a thousand yard stare in his eyes, unable to sleep. She reached down to stroke his head, gently. She laid down on the mattress flush against him as her hand gently stroked hoping to bring him back with her touch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes popped open but he wasn’t there in the room with her. He reached out and gripped her shoulder, hard. She yelped in surprise but didn’t pull away. He wasn’t with her, she realized. “The kids. Get the kids out of the building. I didn’t know there were kids in there when I pushed the button. I didn’t, I swear.” She looked at him with wide eyes. She’d heard stories, rumblings from other guys who came back and at rallies but she didn’t realize how real it all was until she saw the pain and fear in his eyes. Resolved, she continued to stroke him as he wept, repeating, “I didn’t know” and his body shook. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know… it’s okay. It’s over… Shhh, it’s a dream, Bud,” remembering it was what the guys in his unit called him. “You’re in New York. Shhh…” She laid down on the mattress next to him and continued to stroke his face. Slowly she saw his expression change as he came out of whatever flashback or trance he was in. It took a minute for his face to recognize the beautiful woman he slept with last night. He had seen her dancing and she had been kind and  funny. She had long hair and a lightness he wasn’t used to from so much time in the army. She brought him back to her apartment on the lower east side last night. They’d laughed and made love before falling asleep. Last night was good. He knew he must have been rambling in his sleep and her face looked so marred with concern. Gently he reached out and kissed her, bringing her close to him, wanting to cling to whatever magic spell she had him under last night.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. She went with it, knowing he needed it after what she had just seen. She was so caught up in the moment she had completely forgotten about her diaphragm in its case on her dresser. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That would happen a lot over the course of the next four months of their relationship, especially that day at the beach when he took her to the Rockaways in June when he made love to her in that secluded spot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was July when she realized she was pregnant... </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b> <em>“A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it. If at the end of a war story you feel uplifted, or if you feel that some small bit of rectitude has been salvaged from the larger waste, then you have been made the victim of a very old and terrible lie. There is no rectitude whatsoever. There is no virtue. As a first rule of thumb, therefore, you can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil.”</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>― Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried</em> </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I hope that worked. I'm probably most nervous about posting this chapter. </p><p>Kudos and comments are always welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Talk, Talk, and Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Martha and Veronica watch Romancing the Stone, Heather Chandler implements a new plan, and JD talks to his shrink again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am SO SORRY for the wait. This chapter kicked my butt. I procrastinated with a plot idea for another multi chapter epic (that I hesitate to post yet) as well as a fluff one shot that, again, I don't want to post yet. Work-- that thing I get paid for-- always has to come first too.</p><p>BUT I WILL NOT MAKE EXCUSES ANY LONGER.</p><p>This chapter backs it up to Friday movie night and then jumps to Sunday before JD goes back in from suspension and after his first session. The third part concerns his Wednesday session. I hope my timeline back ups don't confuse people.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Friday Night -- Movie Night</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica was sitting in Martha’s basement that her dad had turned into a sort of rec room for her and her three little brothers. On movie nights though Martha and Veronica had absolute control over the space by virtue of her being the oldest and on this particular night they had much cause for merriment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band was back together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brothers were known as the “Irish Triplets” owing to the fact that they were all born less than twelve months apart from one another. Robbie, Mikey, and Stevie-- 13, 12, and 11 respectively-- were most likely hiding close to the door to try and eavesdrop on the older girls’s conversation but a couple of well timed knocks on the door or complaints to Martha’s mom usually took care of them. Littered between the two girls was the remnants of their movie night feast-- about one slice of pizza from the takeout box left and a large bowl of buttery salted love known as popcorn to be devoured between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martha had traded it up tonight in terms of VHS’s: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Romancing the Stone </span>
  </em>
  <span>was on the player. They’d both seen it before but it was definitely one of Martha’s faves. Veronica enjoyed every second of the familiar camaraderie. They hadn’t really discussed much of anything important since she arrived and ordered the pizza and popped the movie in to be honest, but Veronica didn’t want to push and was happy to just be back in her friend’s basement. It was practically a second bedroom to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s it like?” Martha asked shyly out of nowhere in the middle of the movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s what like?” Veronica asked, her eyes on the screen and a handful of popcorn perched at her mouth. Martha looked at the TV screen and back to her friend. It was the sex scene. As far as those kinds of scenes go it was pretty PG-13-- or PG since PG-13 wasn’t a thing when the movie came out-- a lot more suggestion before and cut to the afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you mean--” she realized Martha had meant sex. “You mean, sex?” She asked absurdly quiet as if anyone was around to overhear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean… I always figured you’d be the first to do all that stuff-- especially after you started hanging around the Heathers but… now that you have-- I dunno. I was wondering. That's all.” Veronica considered her oldest and dearest friend. It was natural for her to ask, she realized. They had talked extensively about it the summer before senior year. They discussed everything-- where they wanted it to be set, what song would be on, what they’d wear-- everything except who the guy would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prior to meeting JD in the cafeteria that day she had never had any notion of who that would be and assumed it wouldn’t happen until college. Boys never paid much attention to her prior to the Heathers’s makeover and to be honest most guys at Westerberg were pretty blah. When you’d known most of the boys in your class since Kindergarten or close to it it made it hard to really lust after most of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martha on the other hand, had always vowed to make sure it was someone special, really special. Veronica always bit her tongue, wanting to tell her friend to stop holding on the fantasy of Ram Sweeney but was too much of a coward to ever do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica decided to answer her friend’s question and paused the video. “No, leave the TV on! I don’t want my brothers or mom to overhear!” Martha hissed. She laughed and turned it back on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica turned to her friend. “Well, it’s-- it’s like exactly how you expect and how you don’t expect it to be at the same time? I guess. It’s hard to explain.” Veronica struggled to remember her perceptions of intimacy with guys prior to her first time and she strangely found it hard to recall even though it wasn’t that long ago. “You're a lot more naked than they are in the movies and there’s no cutaway scene between it beginning and you cuddling."She smiled serenely remembering. "And the cuddling after is pretty great too,” she blushed and laughed. “People never tell you how nice the after part is. It’s really warm and you feel safe.” Warmth spread through her as she recalled the feeling of lying in JD’s arms, his fingers playing with her hair. Martha looked at her earnestly. She shook her head, feeling strange dwelling on that thought pattern when Martha was watching. “Oh, don’t worry Martha you’ll find out soon enough.” Martha looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Veronica, no I won’t.” Martha laughed, like it was an absurd suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t say that you’ll--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t find any guys at Westerberg willing to fuck Martha Dumptruck,” Martha said darkly. Veronica was startled by both the profanity and her use of that awful nickname. She wasn’t sure at which more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martha come on now--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, can we make a vow? Can we just be honest with each other totally from now on? Like, if I’m crushing on a guy that is totally not worth it tell me immediately. Don’t think it’s protecting me. Same with pranks and nasty names. I just-- I want the truth at all costs between us.” Veronica nodded, agreeing. If she hadn’t always been such a coward-- afraid to stand up to Heather, afraid to tell Martha the whole truth all the time-- the whole mess never would have started. And, yeah, she really should have tried to talk Martha out of crushing on Ram over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I vow that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so admit it: no boy at Westerberg is going to date me.” Veronica nodded, sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, no guy at Westerberg will probably be interested in you,” Veronica said, hating it being true but knowing Martha wanted the truth now. “But that doesn’t mean-- look, when we get to college though--” Martha shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Veronica shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After high school is over things are going to change for you. There’s more people and you will find someone. You’ll grow into your own person and the choice pool will be much higher. That’s the truth. You’re a great person Martha and somebody is going to start seeing that.” Martha nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” She looked at the pizza. “Maybe I should start laying off the snacks and the grease though. Start running? I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Come on, look. If you want to run? That's awesome. You want to eat healthier? Awesome. I’ll help you. But we’re doing it for you and only you. We’re not doing it so you can look like Heather Chandler or Duke. Trust me, their life is not all it’s cracked up to be,” she told her, remembering how crazy it could make Heather McNamera and how much keeping a size two destroyed Heather Duke. “Talk to Heather Mac for a few minutes about it. She was in that circle longer, and it nearly drove her mad how much Chandler mocked her minor flaws.” Veronica bit her tongue, hoping she didn’t spill her business too much. She hated the idea of becoming as bad a gossip as Heather C was. Honestly though, she wanted Heather M and Martha to talk more, someone like Heather Mac would be amazing for Martha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Martha asked, wide-eyed with surprise. Veronica nudged her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really.” Martha laughed and returned the subject back to her original question. It was strange, Veronica realized. When she talked to Mac she always felt like the innocent to the more experienced girl but talking to Martha the shoe was suddenly on the other foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, back to my original question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me more, tell me more,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>they laughed as she sang the lyrics from Grease. “So, does he, like, want it all the time or something now? My cousin Milly told me after she did it with her boyfriend he wanted it from her constantly. Sounded like a chore.” Martha scrunched her face. Veronica snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re cousin Milly is hardly a good source for these things.” She’d met the girl a few times in the summers since grade school when she’d visit. She was one of those “expert” girls in middle school that seemed to know everything about everything adult that Veronica was now realizing was probably a lot of bullshit. “Honestly? I kind of want it as much as he does.” Heat flushed in her cheeks as she took the throw pillow off the old couch in the basement and covered her embarrassment and laughter. She told her the circumstances of their first encounter red, embarrassed, and both giggling like mad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Ronnie!” Martha was laughing now too, amazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it in the moment.” She shrugged, still smiling at the memory of his shocked face turning to awed surprise. “I was upset and at his place and… it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her body warmed remembering the day after-- the whole day-- with him. From Denny's breakfast to listening to music at his place to falling asleep on top of him in front of the TV… it was the best day and a sign that things were different and could be good between them. "I won't ever regret it, as wild as it was, it was sort of awesome."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martha looked at her carefully. “You love him, don’t you? Like--” she pointed to the image of Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas on the screen. It was the ending now and they were kissing on the boat in the middle of the street. “Like, that kind of love.” Martha paused. “I see you when he’s around and when he, ya know, puts his arm around you and stuff. You seem, I don’t know, different? Happy, but not in a way I’ve ever seen you happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica smiled and told Martha seriously, openly admitting it to someone other than JD for the first time. “I do. I do love him.” Martha sighed, her worry not completely gone. “What? What is it? Aren’t you happy for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie, I’ll always be happy for you being happy, you know that. It’s just-- I worry.” Her tone took a serious turn. She breathed in and looked at her hands, prepared to tell her what had worried her since the first day she saw them talking. “He can get angry. Like with Kurt and Ram in the cafeteria?” Veronica squirmed, not knowing how to truly relieve her fears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They started that! He was minding his own business.” Well, he was flirting with her, but still. Kurt and Ram didn't have control over who flirted with who in the cafeteria. Martha continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or the other day when Kurt started talking to you? That awful fight.” Veronica folded her arms, not sure how to proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kurt was being a dick. And he touched me in a very uncomfortable way.” Veronica shivered, the touch memory still imprinted in her skin making it crawl. Martha tapped her fingers on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie, you got hurt.” She pointed at her arm. Veronica reached for the popcorn, and started crunching it nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an accident. I barely hurt myself. Everyone really made too much a fuss.” She crossed her arms. Her bruise was still a yellowish color, but it didn’t hurt and was healing fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, come on.” Veronica looked back to her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn't mean it, he felt awful about it. And he apologized.” Martha looked at her, eyes slit. “He meant it. Besides he agreed to--” Veronica stopped, unsure if she should tell Martha about him seeing a therapist. She wasn't sure JD would like his business broadcast to the world-- lord knows she didn’t want to jeopardize any progress he could make-- but she also wanted to assure Martha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed to what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just started talking to someone about his anger and other stuff.” She would admit to that, but that was it. If JD wanted people to know about his life that was up to him, but she did need Martha’s fears relieved. “And I promise you this: if he ever purposefully physically hurts me I will dump his ass quicker than he can think.” She remembered the fight in the boiler room the first-- that was a different JD. One that she would never see again if the fates were with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, If he ever does </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s got me to answer to,” Martha said, suddenly with dark eyes. Veronica blinked back, surprised at the tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow! Watch out! Who needs a bad ass boyfriend when I got you to protect me?” Veronica considered Martha in a new light. Something was different about her, different this time. She was not the same girl she had been before senior year but not the same as the one she was the first time around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun, it’s just-- you seem different. Not bad, but different.” Martha nodded and turned point blankly at her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought a lot in the last week since you told me-- since you told me about the prank.” Martha took a handful of popcorn and popped a few in her mouth. “I don’t want to be the Martha who gets picked on anymore. The Martha who smiles and puts on a happy face hoping to Pollyanna her way through life. The Martha who-- the Martha who stupidly thought a vague kiss on the playground meant a boy was madly in love with her secretly for eleven years,” she spat the last part out, laced with a touch of bitterness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t stupid you were--” Martha held her hand up to stop her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Veronica, I get it now. Maybe not stupid, but it was really silly though.” Veronica’s lips twitched upwards as she watched her friend’s face change as well as the look in her eye completely change. “I don’t know yet who this Martha will be, but she’s not going to be the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gust of warmth rushed through Veronica. There it was again. The change. It was like a whole life had changed for the better. She wasn’t sure exactly what was in store for Ms. Dunstock going forward, but Veronica was excited to meet this matured Martha. “You don’t know how awesome that sounds,” she told her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, what time is it?” Martha asked, wiping some tears that had formed away and not wanting to blow the whole movie night on “deep serious discussions.”  She checked her calculator watch. “We better rewind and watch the rest of the movie now before you have to go. Sure you can’t sleepover?” She pointed to the sleeping bags they had always used in the past for an epic slumber party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to, but JD’s picking me up from my place early tomorrow and I know us. We'll be up all night yammering and giggling and won't emerge from a slumber party cave before noon.” She laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True. Okay, well, can you make me one promise first?” Veronica nodded enthusiastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything Martha my love!” She held out her pinky and Martha laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pinky swears? Aren’t we, you know, too old for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are never too old for the pinky swear.” Martha hooked her pinky with Veronica’s and laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you promise me Friday nights? Just you and me? Saturday you can do your dates and boyfriend and stuff, but, promise me that having a boyfriend doesn’t mean we’ll never have our play dates together?” Veronica’s heart warmed and enthusiastically nodded, especially at the little kid description of their friendship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Can’t break up the dynamic duo.” Martha’s heart warmed to hear it. “You know you can always join us. Heather and her boyfriend want to come along a few--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Third wheel? Or worse fifth?” She shook her head. Veronica acquiesced. It did probably suck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, or at least come to lunch with us. God, you have no idea how much of life is easier without that gauntlet of the Westerberg caf in your life.” Martha considered, she had never skipped school before but maybe the new Martha did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’d be nice if you got to know him better too. See how funny he is? Smart?” Martha hrmmed, unsure. “He likes you and it’d be fun.” Martha nodded. "Heather and Kyle Miller come with us too and he'll be back to school on Monday. His car is a piece of crap but it functions," she laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And he picks me up at about 7:30, he'll swing by and get you too." Martha sighed. The bus did suck, especially without her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." She turned the movie back to the last place they were paying attention. They spent the rest of the night eating the popcorn and enjoying the movie like old times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At about 11:00 Veronica grabbed her coat and made her way back home. When she exited the Dunstock house she stared at it and considered what just happened with her best friend and smiled, content with the change. “Miracle number two,” she whispered to herself as she turned and walked back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One more and she’d be a saint.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sunday Night</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sunday night before the new school week and Heather Chandler was on the phone with what remained of the most powerful clique in Westerberg High: herself and Heather Duke. The situation was rapidly getting out of control for Heather Chandler. Control. She needed to regain her control of her clique and her school. She disliked not controlling any and all situations she was in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather MacNamera and Veronica Sawyer were on the outs but the problem was they didn’t seem to be suffering much because of it. Well, yes, the second tier popular kids-- you’re basic pretty people, star male athletes, the Keiths, the Courtneys… they were all ostracizing them but, it was weird, it was like, well, they didn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ate lunch off campus or outside the caf. They were in the hallways laughing and unaffected by being ostracized. Heather Chandler was the Sun Queen and it was supposed to be cold when you weren’t in her presence anymore. It was that boy’s fault and she didn’t like it one bit. Something was wrong with him. He barely looked at her with anything other than disdain or dismissal. Any normal boy didn’t look at her like that-- normal boys wanted to fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> first, Veronica second. That was the natural pecking order. There simply had to be something wrong with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That confused and angered Heather C to no end and she understood it was time to move forward on her plan to get things back to normal. First Veronica, then when that domino fell Heather M would be back in the fold and everything would be back to normal in no time flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I want you to wear the green cardigan and black skirt with your boots tomorrow, okay? I’ll be wearing my polo blazer and I don’t want us to clash.” Heather Chandler issued the orders to Heather Duke over the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course Heather,” she replied meekly. Heather Chandler got up and walked her red phone in the shape of lips over to her vanity. “So, what’s the status of Veronica? I feel like it’s been awhile since you told me your plan.” Duke was on the other end of the line fiddling with the phone chord on her own phone listening to Heather give her the wardrobe status for the following week as she stared at a plate with brownies and a glass of whole milk her mother had brought up to her/ It sat on her desk tantalizing her. She wanted it, more than she wanted anything in her life, but didn't feel up to the shame of purging it afterwards that seemed inevitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, her psychopath had to go and get himself suspended so it’s been putting off the whole thing. The one thing I need you to do Heather is make sure you get Veronica to pass by the chem lab during lunch tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no problem Heather. I'm right on top of it." Heather Duke hung up the phone a few minutes later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought as she devoured the plate of brownies and sucked down that full fat milk. It. Was. Amazing. Not so much though coming back up, she realized when she used her bathroom in shame and guilt a few minutes later.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Monday</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>JD picked up Veronica in the morning like clockwork again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hrm," her father groaned. "I guess your back to being summoned by his horn again." Veronica swatted her dad on the shoulder behind his newspaper as she grabbed his breakfast-- to another 'hrmph' from dad-- and kissed him on the cheek to appease him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on dad, stop." He relented, but only barely. "Maybe I should invite him over to dinner again?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't mind that honey," her mother said as she handed her the pop-tarts from the toaster. Her father grumbled in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe another time." Veronica shook her head. Bill Sawyer had a little shred of sympathy for the young man since meeting his father but not enough for him to hug him like a welcome addition to the family. It also upset him to know that if he did end up leaving as his father said they would it would upset Veronica, but his wife had told him to keep that to himself. The kids would cross that bridge when they got there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't interfere, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she pleaded with him. He had agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day proceeded largely normal, with the added instruction that Martha was riding in the back seat to school. He missed the totally alone time with his girlfriend but Martha was a welcome companion and he didn't mind it as much as he thought. Even if she did ask if they could turn the music down a smidgen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chem before lunch came and went with him witnessing another round of his lab partner getting tortured by Kurt and Ram but he stayed out of it. He had already been told that for his own good that anymore interactions with those pricks could result in more punishments. He didn't mind for himself, but again, it upset Veronica. He knew something would have to erupt again eventually, but for now he kept it to himself. Poor Jeff already looked pissed as he showed him the lab results for the week he was out and he had to fend alone. JD quickly filled in and corrected some stuff based on his other school in a different state's results from the lab to appease him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell rang and everyone headed to lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD had packed up his stuff after chem ready to meet Veronica to run out when he found himself in an empty classroom. Strange how quickly that had happened. Even stranger was how there was only one person other than him in the classroom suddenly. It was Heather Chandler sitting on the lab desk across from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyed her confused. "What are you doing in here?" He asked. "You don't have this class." He kept his eye on her like a snake ready to strike at any moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked him up and down with her downcast eyes. He wondered how many dudes desperate for a fuck thought that practiced move was hot. "Mr. Jennings told me to meet him here during lunch for tutoring." He laughed. The idea of that prick helping a young female student out was a bit ridiculous-- unless he thought it socially acceptable to stare at the young girl's chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Neat," he said tersely. She hopped down from the desk and coquettishly walked up next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dropped your pen. Oh, sorry let me just…” Heather bent down in front of JD-- practically putting her ass on his dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” He asked her point blankly, eyeing her up and down with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. She stood up and smiled sweetly at him in the practiced way that made every guy she had ever encountered want her. She reached up and started to brush his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean…” She replied huskily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped back and laughed. A gut shattering and hearty laugh. “Oh my god. Are you-- Are you trying to get me to-?” He paused and snorted derisively. “Heather, I have no desire to fuck you. First of all, I have no interest in anyone besides Veronica, let alone you. Secondly, even if I didn’t know Veronica… I don’t like you. You’re mean and cruel to people who are weaker than you. You manipulate and torture people who you claim to be your friends and you don’t seem to have much of a reason to do it. You’re white, rich, and conventionally attractive, you clearly have everything going for you yet you choose to be cruel which disgusts me. And thirdly, to be frank, Veronica’s hotter and more interesting than you.” Strangely, it was the last one that seemed to sting Heather the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” she said, trying to remain in control. “You think you’re so cool. You think it’s trwue wub with Veronica I’m-oh-so-good-and-pure Sawyer? She's not going to put out. She's a total prude.” JD laughed again at that, remembering her theatrical break into his room to demand sex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really don’t know anything about us and her especially. Honestly, I don’t expect someone like you to. I don’t want to be apart of any bizarre and sick revenge you’re trying to get on Veronica by getting me to have sex with you. Also, if you so much as make her shed one tear-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you threatening me Travis Bickle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. He grabbed his bag and delivered his final blow. “You’re so… common Heather.” The door opened and Veronica walked in, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Veronica asked, confused to see the last two people on earth she’d expect to see together. “Heather Duke told me you had the bracelet I lent you that my grandma gave me to give back.” She looked back and forth between her former friend and her boyfriend, very curious as to why they would ever occupy the same space or breathe the same air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather’s lips turned in a cruel smile. She decided to try her last defense-- lying. After all, at the end of the day Heather thought, Veronica would assume this to be true. She put a fake sympathetic hand on Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica stared at it like a spider that had just landed there unexpectedly from a web.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry to tell you this Veronica,” she twisted her mouth into a cruel but sympathetic smile and even managed a small tear. "But your boyfriend just tried to grab my ass." Veronica looked from JD back to Heather very confused and surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry-- what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” JD muttered, snorting and spinning around, his hands digging into his pockets and he cursed at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring him Heather continued. "He- he told me the real reason he hooked up with you was to try and get in with me." She touched Veronica's cheek and pulled her into a gross fake hug. "It happens with Heather Duke all the time. Guys think dating my friends will get them a better shot at me. It sucks. It really sucks." Heather pulled away all crocodile tears. "But dump his high school ass and we'll cry over it with fro yo downtown after school, I promise. Boys in high school are the worst. It's nothing but college boys for you from now on." Veronica pulled back from the suffocating hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at Heather Chandler. Really stared at her. At one point in her life she had envied her. Really envied her. She had it all together or so Veronica thought. Veronica idolized her. She was pretty, smart-- but not too smart to intimidate anyone-- boys-- older boys at that-- all wanted her. She was safe. She was loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sad, she realized. Desperate to be loved, controlled, and worshiped by everyone. Veronica carefully stepped back. “No he wasn’t." JD turned at the tone of Veronica's voice. It wasn't mad, it wasn't worried. It was... calm? Collected? "Why are you doing this Heather? Why do you care?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Veronica. I'm your friend. I don't want you with some jerk that's using you to get to me." JD burst into laughter. Veronica looked over to him and signaled him to keep it to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No you're not." She considered her again and it hit her. "You're jealous, aren't you?" She asked her, carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jealous?" She asked, aghast. "Of you?" She said automatically. "Oh don't make me laugh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow. You are," Veronica said surprised. "You're jealous I'm happy without you." Heather opened and closed her mouth, unsure for the first time in her very well loved and popular life what to say. “Heather Mac and I are good-- better in fact-- without being under your thumb." She reached her hand out to JD who took it, a look of sheer surprise and stunned admiration for her on his face. Hand in hand they went to the door. She turned back to her. "Heather, I’m done with you. I’m done with all of you. You have no power here. Now begone before someone drops a house on you.” She opened the door and they were about to leave when Veronica paused and looked back one last time on the Queen of Westerberg high. She shook her head. “I gave you a gift, Heather Chandler. You will never ever know the gift that I gave you. You'll probably just waste it though being petty." With that Veronica Sawyer took her boyfriend and left Heather Chandler in the dust stunned and fuming with rage at being spoken to like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes passed before Heather Duke came in and found her. "I don't get it Heather, what's up? I expected Veronica crying at our table about now." It had been miserable for the last ten minutes. She had sat at the center of the power table in the cafeteria. Alone. Like a loser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather breathed in and out carefully. "Veronica no longer deserves to be welcome back to the fold." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duke looked confused. "Oh? So what's the plan then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll tell you when the time is right. Come on, the lunchtime poll still needs to get done." The gears in Heather Chandler's head kept turning. When lunch was over she turned to Duke and asked conversationally. "Weird question but... does your mother still take Rohypnol to help her sleep?" Duke was a bit taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, yeah. I think? Why? Having trouble again?" Heather smiled like the Grinch stealing presents from Whoville.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh... just a touch."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wednesday…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>JD dropped Veronica and Martha on Wednesday at the library in town before heading into the city for his next appointment. Martha had asked where he was going but both Veronica and he remained quiet about it muttering about “errands” he had to do. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” He nodded before driving off. It wasn’t a long drive into the city, albeit a stop at the 7/11 for a slush and a snack put him a little behind schedule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled into the office on time and when the receptionist gave him the okay he walked in-- left his coat on-- and plopped down on the seat right as Doctor Beckett was getting his notepad and file for him out. He almost looked surprised to see him. “Well, in the flesh! If it isn’t the fifth member of Bauhaus back for the second time.” JD looked down at himself slightly self-conscious and confused. A small laugh escaped against his better judgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More of a Smiths fan, but I’ll give you credit for the British band reference.” Dr. Beckett accepted the faint praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My daughter’s fourteen, she let me take a look at her albums much to her embarrassment. Not the worst. I mean, they’re no Pink Floyd or Cream but...” JD rolled his eyes at the boomer talk. “Oh ho ho ho, young man. One day when you’re my age you’ll be saying the same thing about your albums to the seventeen year olds. Trust me. Children will always hate their parent’s music.” JD snorted and pulled the book he gave him last week out of his back pocket and handed it back. He accepted it gingerly and looked at him expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was good,” JD said, not sure what else to say or if he wanted to really engage with him about it. He didn’t even like doing that in his own English class. Veronica had been the only person he’d ever met who he felt he could actively engage with in terms of books and things like that and a part of him loved that-- made what they had special. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to put the book down. JD had started it on Sunday afternoon and was done by Monday morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just good?” JD didn’t respond. “It’s not AP English in here, I know, but I was hoping for a bit more than that. Come on, you’re no dummy.” JD was startled by that. Veronica told him he was smart, but no adult or authority figure ever really had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My grades would probably disagree with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grades have little to do with intelligence. They simply gauge how much you try or know how to play the school game.” A spark of acknowledgement went through JD. He agreed, he was just surprised to hear an adult say the same thing. “So, come on. You’re just going to leave it at ‘it was good?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD opened his mouth with a little trepidation. “I thought it was well written. I don’t know. Made me think that--” He stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, please. What did it make you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just. Reading about the shi-- stuff,” he corrected himself unsure if swearing was okay in this office, “him and the other guys saw and went through it just--" He paused, looking down at his hands. "How do you bounce back from that kind of thing? I mean those guys or anyone really that lives through intense trauma-- are they just doomed to be broken the rest of their life?” He thought of his own traumas from his youth and lightly on the traumas his father must have-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you will not empathize with him. Not after the other night or all the other nights. And especially not after what he did to mom. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor nodded, clearly engaged with the nature of his observation. “It can seem that way, can’t it? You hear awful stories, just awful ones of the trauma and abuse people live through. War stories, really. And not all of them take place during actual wars. And you just think, ‘how do you come back from that?’ But the thing is? People do all the time. People are amazing and we can survive a lot. The trick though to it is that you have to acknowledge the trauma and you have to acknowledge that it’s something you’ll likely carry your whole life and that if you talk about it, seek help, you’ll be able to come out the other side and still be able to have a healthy life.” He looked directly at JD. “Every human being has a fundamental right to good mental health, no matter who they are.” JD turned that over in his head, and pocketed it away for later and for further rumination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something stirred inside him at that. “When I got home Saturday night I had a fight with my dad.” He hadn’t told Veronica about Saturday night and he’d been careful to keep his arm covered by his coat most of the week so she couldn’t see the large welt that had formed on his arm from where his dad had grabbed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dr. Beckett said in only that way a therapist could say, ‘oh.’ IE, in a manner that meant he was more than passably interested. In a manner that deluged that he was trying to get him to say a bit more about it. “What was the fight about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was all new territory for JD. Talking in general. Especially about what happened inside the four walls of the Dean residence-- wherever that residence may be. “Nothing. Everything. It was stupid. He was drunk.” Dr. Beckett nodded, adding an extra puzzle piece to the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He do that a lot? Get drunk?” JD just shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I guess? He’s always been a drinker, but usually he’s functioning. I don’t know.” The older man nodded, hoping to prod some more on this revelation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He get depressed?” He shrugged again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, I guess. He doesn’t exactly talk to me about much and I usually steer clear when I see the whisky out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he was mad about the fight and suspension I imagine? Doesn’t sound unreasonable to me.” JD chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly. He found out about the fight at school and the suspension because my girlfriend’s father stopped by to talk to him. Trust me, he was more mad about that than anything I did.” Doctor Beckett made more notes and then looked at him. It was boiling in the office and sweat was beading on the teenager's head. He still had that heavy black coat on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you hot in that coat?” The doctor asked curiously. “The heat is always on so high in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see you sweating from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hiding something? Take the coat off.” JD realized the doctor had a bone and wouldn’t let it go. He reluctantly did as he was asked and hung the coat up on the rack and counted to three before he asked the inevitable question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you get the bruise on your arm?” He hadn’t had the opportunity to be alone with Veronica this week and he had managed to get her to write him some excuse notes to get out of gym class-- no questions asked because, god love her, she wouldn’t ask-- so no one could ask him about the nasty purplish and yellow bruise that wrapped around his upper arm that had only just begun to fade since Saturday. It wasn’t his first rodeo of covering up questionable bruises that get school types asking uncomfortable questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gym class,” he lied, wanting to cover it right up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t strike me as the type to participate in gym class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basketball tryouts are right around the corner, thought I’d make an effort. Go Bulldogs.” He lifted his arm in a mock fist pump salute. The doctor glared at him unimpressed with the obvious lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rottweilers. I looked up information about your high school when we first met. The mascot is a rottweiler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD shifted in his seat grabbing his arm trying to hide it. It didn’t hurt anymore and lord knows his father had done worse when he was younger and smaller. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me the truth. Did your father do that?” He didn’t respond. Neither to confirm nor deny his suspicions. “When he gets drunk does he do things like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you. It’s not a--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a big deal. It’s a really big deal and dollars to donuts says this wasn’t the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ten. I can fight back now,” JD said, resolved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fight back?” He asked, startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think I just let him do that to me meekly? No. I can handle myself.” The Doctor stared at him, more curious and suddenly a lot of the puzzle pieces were coming into the light. The more pieces to the puzzle the better equipped he’d be to help him put it together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t the point. Fight back? Listen to what you just said.” JD looked away from him. “The lesson of your teenage life shouldn’t be, ‘learn to fight back.’” JD looked down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to let him do to me what he did to her,” he said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her?” Beckett asked, his ears perked. JD didn’t respond. “Do you mean your mother? Did he hurt your mother too?” JD still didn’t respond. “Your silence merely confirms it.” JD’s foot started tapping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was much smaller than him, it wasn’t a fair fight. He’s my height and I’m younger and healthier than he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically on my suspicions alone I am ethically obligated to call this in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To what end? I’ll be 18 in 4 months. Move again to a group home? Then get kicked out?” A whip fear of leaving Westerberg-- the shithole it was-- but more importantly leaving Veronica. “I don’t want to change schools again. I do not want to leave Ver--” He stopped himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica? You don’t want to leave her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He looked down. “I’m not leaving her.” He swallowed. “If living with him for the rest of the year means not leaving Veronica then I can deal with it.” The doctor sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t call. Honestly, you’re right. Four months shy of 18? The state can barely be trusted with worse cases for the younger kids let alone a nearly grown teenager. The time to have called is unfortunately long gone. I’m sorry.” There was silence for a moment. “Have you ever heard the expression, intergenerational trauma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I’m sure you want to tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the theory that trauma can be inherited. That parents who suffer from trauma can pass that trauma down to their kids. There are studies showing it cropping up in children of holocaust survivors, victims of racial violence, veterans. It was something that came to my mind when we talked last time. When you told me how long he’d been in Vietnam, his job there, with some of your body language and now the confirmation of domestic abuse I got some articles on it out. Honestly, I had a suspicion when we first met and talked it was something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neat.” He ignored the knee jerk sarcasm from the sullen teen. “Explanations with lots of syllables are neat.” Dr. Beckett ignored his defensive jibe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In your particular case veterans with untreated post-traumatic stress have a higher propensity to alcoholism, drug use…” He looked at his arm, for JD to suddenly get self conscious. “Domestic abuse. Especially when they don’t seek help or their government doesn’t care enough to offer any.” JD looked away. “I want to know. How’d your mother die, JD?” He sighed. It was no use holding back, he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said it was an accident but… She killed herself.” He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad got hired to demolish a condemned library. We drove down there to watch. She told me to wait on a bench outside. Next thing I know she’s waving and smiling at me from the window two minutes before it came down.” The doctor nodded, holding back his empathetic emotion for the heartbreaking story. He needed to be praised for his honesty and opening up, not given blind sympathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for being honest with me about that. I was worried it would take a few more sessions to get that out of you.” He didn’t respond, but just looked at his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you know the deep dark sad life of Jason Dean. His mom killed herself in front of him, his dad is a drunk and abuser, and he moves around more than a rock star on tour so that he can hardly remember what town he’s playing in.” He breathed out deeply. “What now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now? Well, now we talk about it. And we talk about it some more. We keep talking about it for as long as you come here and probably longer. The longer you talk about it, admit it, accept it, and work to heal the trauma, the healthier and more able to enjoy life you’ll be. Now, first things first. Let’s figure out how we’ll get you out of that house and somewhere safe. Think of it as your eighteenth birthday gift.” JD flicked his eyes up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't be sure but JD may have just met the first "adult" in his life he'd consider trusting.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay. That was a fun start, a dramaz-y middle, and an angsty bittersweet end, maybe? </p><p>Comments and kudos if you can! Thanks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Que Sera, Sera</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica Sawyer is planning her future. Veronica and JD ponder the plot of Carrie-- both the book and movie.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos. In particular I really want to thank Sonochu for their very helpful constructive criticism conversation we had. It influenced a heavy re-write on this chapter. I also wish to thank Alexandra_dAutriche for their always thorough comments. An extra thank you to angstymidnightcrying, FutureFamousAuthor108, and Veronicasawyerr who also leave multiple chapter comments and I love them too. I read every word and am always grateful. No one is ever required to leave a comment, so I really love it when anyone takes the time and does. As I said, I try to respond to anyone that comments.</p><p>I know the last few chapters were very JD heavy as I wanted to do justice to his getting help but I want to swing it back around to Veronica again. We're pretty much in what I think of as the second act-- there's still a lot of story I want to tell and once we get past the climax of him and his dad we enter the third act-- about Veronica dealing with her own stuff, so don't think I've abandoned that. I hope that was sufficiently vague as of course I don't want to spoil the twists.</p><p>Without further ado...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The future. So much time of my life was spent planning and worrying about the future. Then suddenly my past has changed and now I have a second chance. I want things to be better for everyone. Now it’s time to ask the question? What do I want for myself going forward? What changes do I want for me? </em>
</p><p>Time had passed at Westerberg and with it a sense of normalcy to Veronica’s senior year of high school it had always severely lacked. All those things that every high school student longs for their senior year are now forefront on everyone’s mind again: college acceptance, awards dinner, senior trip, the prom, and graduation. It was strange how at ease she was getting back into the groove of it. Maybe it was the nature of whatever strange spell or magic had transported her back for the do-over or maybe it was the way the five years following high school were hard and very tainted by the crimes she had participated in and the images she couldn’t get out of her head but re-living it without it was more than welcome. She still didn’t know how this was possible, and until someone told her otherwise she was living this moment for all it was worth.</p><p>Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney all lived to see days they hadn’t the first time. She knew from the way they had acted it was not ever going to be a gift they’d realize it to be but that was fine. Her and JD’s souls were clean of those crimes, and in a selfish way that was all that mattered to her. Heather and Heather still flowed through the halls of Westerberg like royalty right past Kurt and Ram who still hounded girls and tormented the weaker boys. Knowing JD was getting the extra time of life too, that was special for her and he seemed as if he were doing something with it.</p><p>Heather Mac and Martha though were thriving and that made her happy. JD was going to the therapy with little complaints and it seemed like it… was helping? Maybe? She had spent so much of her time worrying about others she had forgotten to worry about herself.</p><p>Veronica Sawyer was planning her future again finally. Veronica Sawyer once had a promising future and whilst she knew she’d never be the naive girl she was prior to meeting JD the first time it didn’t mean she couldn’t resurrect her dream of a future at a good college.</p><p>It was November now as she made her way to the guidance offices and she noticed the change at Westerberg’s senior year immediately. Instead of assemblies, a media circus, memorial services, and grief counselors there were posters up in the halls asking the seniors to vote for the location of their senior skip day trip, to join the prom committee, and to put deposits on rings and yearbooks to be delivered to them in the last month of school.</p><p>She arrived at Ms. Fleming’s office for her Thursday afternoon appointment to discuss her “future.” </p><p>“Ah, Veronica! Sit down,” Ms. Fleming told her. She swiveled on her chair and went to her file cabinet and pulled out her large file on her.</p><p>“Let’s discuss your future, shall we?” Dumped out in front of her were applications and brochures. Harvard. Yale. Duke. Brown. UCLA. Stanford. She was a bit overwhelmed by the choices laid out ahead of her.</p><p>“You really have so many options. Discuss the finances with your parents but there are many scholarship opportunities and financial aid packages I’m sure you qualify for and I’ve got the pamphlets all set to go here. Veronica opened her bag and started to fill it up filled with all this information for her and her parents to pour over and plan. As they were finishing up she saw Ms. Fleming’s demeanor change as she glanced out the window of her office.</p><p>Veronica followed her line of sight. She couldn’t help but smile. JD had entered the outer office to meet her as her meeting bled into the lunch period. He plopped down on the chairs and took a non-school book out of his big coat pocket and settled in to read and wait. Ms. Fleming went back and forth between the two very different students.</p><p>“There’s something else we should discuss.” Veronica tore her gaze away and brought it right back to the counselor.</p><p>“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Veronica, do you see all these options before you that we just discussed?” The armful of college applications she had was staggering.</p><p>“Yeah. It’s a lot to think about.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re, well, you're very lucky. You have quite a future ahead of you. You can be anything you want to be, do whatever you want to do. I just--” She bit her tongue, trying to choose precisely the right words. “I wouldn’t want you throwing that away.” </p><p>“I don’t understand. Throw it away…? How…?” Ms. Fleming glanced out the window to JD, who had pulled the second chair over and put his boots up on it, stretching out. Veronica eyed her curiously. She didn’t really liked Ms. Fleming. Well, none of the students really liked her. She was a joke, terminally trapped in 1968 and lectured from the “Just Say No” handbook when you just knew she had a steady stream of weed at home and frequent acid flashbacks.</p><p>She sighed, still nervous about her words. “It’s just… boys like that…” She waved to the window. She didn’t finish.</p><p>Veronica scrunched her nose-- and not just at the awful smell of patchouli that permanently surrounded her-- and couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m sorry, ‘boys like that’? What does that mean?” Veronica was genuinely confused. Wasn’t this the woman that told all the students to love and accept themselves and others? That all the problems of the world were solved by joining hands and singing? Ms. Fleming sighed. </p><p>“It's just-- I get that it can be exciting. For a boy like that to start paying attention to you but they often-- I’m sorry Veronica, that’s not my business. You need to be free to make your own decisions. Just please be safe.” She reached into her desk and handed her one more pamphlet. On it was a young girl with her finger on her mouth looking up as if pondering. The title read, “Thinking of Having Sex? Know the Facts! For Girls.” Veronica dropped it like a hot potato. “What I'm trying to say is this: Veronica please remember the seven ‘b’s’: books before boys because boys bring babies. Oh, and boys can also bring STD’s. I guess that’s seven ‘b’s’ and an ‘s’.”</p><p>“Oh my god.” She foisted it back on her. Ms. Fleming pushed it right back.<br/>
<br/>
“It looks corny but the facts are straight. Just remember female oral contraceptives are not enough, you should always wear condoms too to prevent sexually transmitted diseases. It's a whole new ballgame nowadays.” She paused and added, “I know he should be responsible for this too, but let’s be honest, they never are,” a dark look passed her eyes as she took a sip of coffee, “no matter how old they are.”</p><p>“Thanks Ms. Fleming, this has all been, um, very helpful,” Veronica said, needing an end to this discussion. What was with everyone assuming she was only thinking of having sex when she was actually doing it? Didn’t the rumor Heather Duke start a while back already make it clear she and JD were wrestling?</p><p>Upon leaving the meeting to go to lunch she went to JD waiting for her with his boots on the second seat-- to the dead-eye glare of Miss Drew, the office secretary-- with his copy of Gibson’s <em> Neuromancer </em>in hand.</p><p>“How is it?” She asked, lightly kicking his chair to get his attention. He glanced up from the book and his whole face lit up with a dazzling smile as his eyes flicked up and down her. </p><p>“Call me kooky but I think computers are the future.” She chuckled as he dog eared his page and slipped the book into his coat pocket and stood up.</p><p>“Nah, passing fancy. Abacuses are going to come back strong. Mark my word.” He slipped his arm around her and they exited.</p><p>She couldn’t shake that upset feeling over how the meeting had ended. She hadn’t like the tone Ms. Fleming had about JD. Would she have said the same thing to her had it been that overachiever Peter Dawson or-- yuck-- Kurt Kelly waiting for her? </p><p>They slid into his car just the two of them today. Veronica had packed them a lunch of sandwiches and fruit, convinced he needed to start changing his diet from fast food and convenience store buys. He agreed only because he realized his wallet could also use the break from buying food a lot. He was going to drive a little out of the way from the school so at least they could be alone, maybe makeout on the hood of the car for a little while before trekking back to school.</p><p>“What happened? Bad meeting? Find out your career aptitude test told you to be a florist? I got park ranger on mine.” She didn’t laugh. “Seriously, babe, what is it?” He started the engine and pulled out.</p><p>“JD, when is your meeting with the guidance counselor?”<br/>
<br/>
“Meeting?” He asked, surprised.</p><p>“Yeah, to, well, discuss your future options.”</p><p>He laughed. “Veronica, kids like me get called into the discipline office to discuss whether I’m more suited for San Quentin or Sing Sing than the guidance counselor’s to discuss Notre Dame or Loyola.” He stopped the car about ten minutes away from the school. It was a park not far. It being the middle of the day it was mostly empty and only consisted of a few retirees and unemployed people of the Sherwood area.</p><p>“That’s not funny,” Veronica replied to him, not liking the idea of him being in jail one bit.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” he said, understanding better she didn’t find humor like that particularly funny. “I just mean, look Veronica you’re straight A’s and top percentile SAT scores. They care where you go to school. They don’t discuss my future in meetings filled with large packets.” She frowned. Sometimes she could be so naive even still, she realized.</p><p>“I didn’t-- I never realized that. Seriously? You haven’t even been scheduled one?” He shrugged. He reached in the back and grabbed the bag with their lunches in it. He pulled out the sandwiches and handed her one and him the other and they got out to eat sitting on the hood of the car. It was still fair weather for fall, and it was nice to take advantage of it.</p><p>“I guarantee if they do it’ll be to throw trade school and Uncle Sam ‘I Want You’ ads at me.” He laughed. “Maybe I should join the army. That’d piss my dad off, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t respond. He shrugged the idea and remembered the plan: move out and get away from him, not piss him off. “I went to a meeting like that last year when we were in Tulsa,” he told her quietly. “Or maybe it was Poughkepsie. Anyway, my grades are meh and I didn’t even take the SAT’s so…” Veronica chewed her sandwich. It was strange. He was so smart, so talented… he should have just as many options as she did. He looked at her worried face and nudged her. “I’ll be fine. Get a job, I dunno. There’s always time to figure things out.”</p><p>“But if you don’t go to college right away then you’ll never--” Veronica was raised to be college bound that was for sure. A good girl from a nice family, she was smart and was told from the day she entered school she was going places. She had never realized what an odd pair they kind of were. Odd but the same.</p><p>“Veronica,” he said, a little frustrated. “It’s okay. Go or don’t go. The most important thing I’m working on is getting out of his house.” Veronica swallowed. He didn't tell her a lot about his sessions-- and she stood her ground not to pry-- but he told her about that. There was still no concrete plan, it was surprisingly hard when he was still a few months shy of eighteen and money... money was a hard one to figure out. </p><p>“You’re right. Sorry. Table this for later then, can we?” He bristled but agreed. She rested her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her as they nibbled on the sandwiches trying not to focus too hard on “the future."</p><p>Later that evening Veronica was in her room at her desk. Her homework done, she was staring at her college applications. Big packets with questions to answer and transcripts to attach from Harvard, Duke, Brown, Stanford-- and her safety Ohio-- all stared back at her. Those big four were all she dreamed of and her parents gave her to go ahead to try for all of them, they’d figure out the money to pay for it when she got her acceptance letters and applied for scholarships. A million years and two different lives ago Veronica dreamed of the hallowed halls of austere elite universities where she could soar far away from all the garbage of her high school.</p><p>Then she met JD. Than Heather’s accidental-on-purpose death turned suicide. Than Kurt and Ram’s shootings turned suicide. Than JD’s attempt to blow the school up turned suicide. After that the idea of going to college in some fancy school seemed less important and less extreme. She chose Ohio and was happy with it. It was far enough from Sherwood to get away, close enough for when she needed her parents. It wasn’t a decision that upset anyone, but it wasn’t one that excited them either. Veronica Sawyer had potential after all. Potential in that way that teachers and parents loved to brag about.</p><p>But as she looked at the pamphlets of the big four she wasn’t sure either. They were all, for all intents and purposes, very small town insular schools. Frats, Sororoties, big campus life. Is that what she wanted going forward? She dug around the bag and found another one. NYU. She’d been thinking more and more about moving to New York City lately. Maybe it was the conversation she’d had with JD the Sunday morning after their initial hookup-- the one where they’d talked about traveling in NY-- perhaps it was her realization she needed to go as far away from Sherwood as she could get and maybe a city university would be better. If she didn’t want to be involved in the social world of the school she didn’t have to be. And she was realizing she wasn’t beholden to her old life if things were changing. </p><p>She stared at it and opened the packet, grabbed her pen and started filling it out. What would it hurt to apply?</p>
<hr/><p>Veronica and JD were on the couch in his living room, the movie they were watching long over, the tape having already reached the end and stopped, the VCR automatically started to rewind it.</p><p>Movie night with Martha had been called off due to her leaving right after school to visit her grandmother for the weekend. JD generously offered to fill in the void at his house. And they did watch a movie. They watched <em> The Evil Dead 2 </em>-- something Veronica had never seen and JD maybe liked a little too much. Veronica worried that since she had never seen the first one she’d be lost, he promised her that wouldn’t be the case and he was quite correct. Veronica had commented that she didn’t think the human body had as much blood in it as the movie apparently thought it had. He told her that that really wasn’t the point. The point, apparently, was that they had begun making out somewhere as the credits rolled. As the tape rewound  JD had got up to put a record on. Patty Smith’s Easter album filtered lightly through the living room’s speakers. </p><p>Veronica was spread length-wise flush over JD as they kissed, getting quite lost in the feelings of each other's bodies as the blue light from the channel 3 setting for the VCR on the television highlighted them in a surreal glow. They were going to have sex eventually, but he was attempting to make the pre-game show last a bit longer which Veronica appreciated. In between his kisses his hands roamed up and down her body, and raked up her skirt to fondle her. In a breathless whisper between kisses he recited, “<em> If I never see you again, I will always carry you, inside, outside, on my fingertips, and at brain edges, and in centers, centers, of what I am, of what remains </em>.” He ended that little earnest recitation by holding her face and staring at her eyes in an intoxicating mixture of blind passion and warmth.</p><p>She groaned, turned on more than possible. “God, only you can make Bukowski sound really sexy and not pretentious.” She resumed making out.</p><p>“Oh god, it turns me on that you know that’s Bukowski,” he groaned out as her teeth nipped at his neck in response. She broke contact from his body and he whimpered, “don’t stop,” unashamed he was practically begging her.</p><p>“No, um,” her breath was ragged and her body hot all over. “Take off your shirt.” He struggled to sit up to comply as she unbuttoned and removed her own top. Quickly she discarded it and he discarded his before launching back on to his lips. His hands now glided down her bare back and awkwardly fiddled with her bra clasp only to… not find it. “Um, Veronica?” he asked awkwardly as she began kissing down his neck. “How do you…?”</p><p>“Oh, sorry, it, um, opens in the front.” Quickly she sat up and he watched carefully as she opened it revealing her topless form. She practically fell on top of him as he dragged her back down. Her breasts pressed against him, his hands glided down from her back and down to under her skirt. She murmured as his hands grazed over her ass and the tops of her inner thighs lightly, causing her to feel… everything. To feel everything all at once. Lust, want, love… everything.</p><p>“We should move up to your room,” she whispered in heated breaths as he awkwardly tried to tug her panties down and her hand slipped between their bodies to touch him between his legs. </p><p>He hissed and said, “I can’t wait.”</p><p>“What if-- I mean, what if your dad comes back?” <em> What time was it?  </em><br/>
<br/>
“Trust me, we’re alone.” He gritted his teeth as she managed to unbutton his pants and slip her hand in them. He grabbed her hand and removed it.</p><p>“Not yet, I’m trying to make it last longer,” he whispered. “I want to make sure you-- you know, enjoy it first.”</p><p>They awkwardly shimmied her out of the panties and any thoughts of privacy in favor of urgency went out of her head when his fingers dipped inside of her. She let loose an embarrassing moan which she tried to apologize for. “Don’t, I like the sounds you make,” he breathed as he continued touching her like that, trying to get her to climax. He watched her transfixed as she leaned in to him, her body moving against it wanting--</p><p>“Hey Pop, I think it’s a bit rude to come home right when I was fingering my girlfriend on the couch,” the deep drawl of his father intoned as the lights filled the room. Suddenly what they were doing was highlighted in sharp contrast. No longer sweet, sexy, and romantic, shame and embarrassment flooded both of them. “God! Turn  this crap off!” He flicked the turntable off violently. He rolled his eyes as they quickly got their clothes on. “Jesus, she doesn’t have to go, just take her up to your room. That’s why you have one.” He flipped the TV back over to the antenna and flipped through until the familiar rerun strain of the instrumental of “Suicide is Painless” kicked in. <em> MASH reruns, </em> JD thought pissed. <em> That was what was so important to violate their moment and embarrass her? Fucking prick. </em></p><p>There was ever so slight of a slur to his speech to suggest he had been drinking and he walked passed them to the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a fresh Coors Light, his gaze lingering a bit too long on her causing her stomach to tighten. Veronica heard the pop can as JD quickly grabbed her bra and blouse and handed it to her as he secured his own pants. How long had he been there, and more disturbingly how long had he been watching them?</p><p>Veronica desperately tried to cover herself flummoxed, embarrassed, and a little disturbed. They’d been trying to avoid him as much as possible since the plan to get him out of there was concocted for his own sanity and safety but she had to also admit he scared her too. She didn’t like the way JD’s dad looked at her when her clothes were on-- neither did JD for that matter-- but the idea of him looking at her without them and straddling his son was even more upsetting.</p><p>He gripped her hand tightly as he pulled her out the door and towards his car. They drove in silence for what felt like forever. Finally they found themselves parked near the playground. It was getting late and no one ever really hung around there on a Friday night anyway unless you were making out or smoking pot.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “He was supposed to be gone all night. The time--”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not your fault. I know. We got carried away.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not- he shouldn’t look at you like that,” he said with quiet anger. She got quiet, JD never talked openly about his relationship with his dad often. At least not before, last time. And not often now, especially with her. She knew he hated him, knew for sure there was more to it than just the basics he told her. She wondered if talking to Dr. Beckett was making him more open. She dearly hoped it was. It was okay if it wasn’t her he talked to about it, so long as it was someone.</p><p>“I’m fine. It wasn't pleasant, but I'm fine.” She turned to him, better at reading him lately since he started talking to someone. "There's something you're not telling me." He paused, internally debating.</p><p>“The stuff the other day. About planning futures. I should tell you--” He stopped, unsure if he should tell her.</p><p>“Tell me what?” She asked, reading his tone and worrying.</p><p>“I’ve been having dreams. Bad ones.” She turned to him and reached for his hand. He looked down at their linked hands as she carefully started to rub her thumb in circles on his palm.</p><p>“Can you talk to me about it?” He breathed in and out as he watched her be tender with him.</p><p>“I’ve always had dreams-- nightmares-- about the day in Texas when she--” <em> When his mom killed herself, </em> she finished in her head <em> . </em> She nodded to tell him to go on, not having to have to linger on it. Veronica was scared to talk, afraid she’d break whatever spell it was that was letting JD talk to her more openly than he had ever in any lifetime. He paused before he confessed. “The other night though, it was different. Instead of- instead of her in that window waving I saw- well, I saw you.” They were silent as she contemplated what he had just said. She placed a hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her.</p><p>“Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere, least of all… like that. If you keep letting me in, keep loving me like this--” She ran her thumb down his cheek. The way that he’d been to her since the changes she made it was the JD he could be, the one that she loved and she didn’t want to lose it.</p><p>“Is that an ultimatum?” he said a bit darker than she liked. She was taken aback and dropped her hand.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s- that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>“Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” he said, sounding a bit freaked himself. It was a glimpse of the JD she had remembered from before but… he seemed to recognize that now. Was that progress? Was that change? “Sometimes these dark thoughts come to me. I don’t like it.”</p><p>“I love you,” she whispered. “Talk to me about these things. I want to be with you as long as you choose me and let me in. Okay?” He shifted in his seat.</p><p>“You were asking about the future the other day Veronica. And… and I realized I never planned for after high school. Not really. I-I don’t know if I ever really understood there would be a life that far ahead for me.” Unbidden tears formed at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Quickly she wiped them away.</p><p>"Jason Dean you have a future. I have a future. We both have friggin' amazing futures ahead of us." Instead of responding to her he leaned over and started kissing her. Things escalated. Quickly. Suddenly he stopped and opened his door. “What? What’s wrong? Don’t you want to? I mean, I can feel--”<br/>
<br/>
“No, uh, it’s just-- the back seat is more comfortable,” he muttered and she understood. The steering wheel and hump did make it uncomfortable and she opened the passenger door to move into the back as well.</p><p>Having sex with JD in the backseat of his car was not as comfortable as in his own bed but it wasn’t bad. She was loath to admit it, but the cliche of it, the fogged up windows, the idea that someone could happen upon them-- it turned her on a little more. She held his face in her hands as he resumed doing with his fingers what they had been doing earlier. He looked at her with such tenderness she leaned up and kissed him as her body quivered under his touch. “That feels so good… I love you…”</p><p>When they were finished they stretched out in the back seat, his arms wrapped around her and her head on his chest, his fingers idly fiddling with her hair with his coat draped over them to keep the late fall chill off their bodies.</p><p>“Have you told him what you told me?”</p><p>“Hmm?” He asked, brought back to reality.</p><p>“Dr. Beckett. Have you told him about this yet? What you just told me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“When you go tomorrow you should.” He didn’t respond right away, but he turned his head and gave her a lingering kiss on her head.</p><p>“I should take you home.”</p><p>“Few more minutes?” She asked not wanting to leave the warm cocoon of his body and not sure if their discussion was quite over.</p><p>He stroked her head carefully. “I scare myself sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “I get… fixated on an idea and I know…” He stopped.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me. It’s okay to let me in.”</p><p>“Like, all those awful people. Heather, Kurt, Ram, all of them. Look at how she treated you or Heather McNamara, her supposed friends. How those jocks torment smaller guys. They just go around abusing people because they can for no reason. Getting rid of them--” She leaned up to look down on him and cut him off immediately.</p><p>“When the bullied get revenge on the bullies they’re no better than the bully.” She paused. “It’s like in Carrie. Ever read Carrie?” He nodded. “All those people were awful to her. That main chick and PJ Soles and John Travolta were awful, awful teenagers that picked on a girl because she had a shit mom and didn’t get how her period worked. The whole time your sympathy is totally with her. The other kids, her mom, the principal-- they're all utterly awful. But in the end? When she just murders them all? She’s a murderer, not a hero. Those kids weren't innocent but she lets her anger at injustice kill everyone in her wake. Even the nice gym teacher that wanted to help her! And Carrie has to die because of that. She has to die because she did all of that. What a friggin’ waste. She could move shit with her mind! She could have done anything she wanted to but she let her anger at those nasty people consume her and ultimately kill her. It’s not right.”<br/>
<br/>
“John Travolta and PJ Soles? Thought you said you read the book? Cuz the gym teacher lives in the book,” he responded, avoiding her point.</p><p>“Okay, fine, I just saw the movie-- and that’s not the point I was making and you know it.”</p><p>“I know. Sorry. What you're saying is basically: ‘he who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you,’" he quoted. She was taken aback.</p><p>“Huh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nietzsche." She looked at him curiously. "What? Something about me makes you think I never read Nietzsche?” She shook her head agreeing, he was the type,<br/>
<br/>
They lay quiet for a moment both thinking. “Can you promise me something?” He asked. </p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“Leave me if I start scaring you for real. If I start to… hurt you. I’d kill myself if I hurt you like he did her.” Cold whipped through her as she realized he was telling her the truth. After all, It's what he did the first time around.</p><p>“JD, You’re only like your dad if you choose to be.”</p><p>He kissed her head and gently moved her body off his. "Just promise me." She shifted off his body and they both started to get dressed.</p><p>"I promise you," she responded to him, sternly. "I promise you I will leave you faster than you can blink if you hurt me like that. If you act like him," she said, meaning it.</p><p>"Good," he responded, content with her resolve. "Come on, it's late. I better take you home for real."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are welcome. Thanks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. I'm the Boy They Can't Ignore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD helps someone and makes a friend.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys. This chapter sort of concludes one mini subplot I had, as well as sets up for the upcoming first climax. A little housekeeping:</p><p>1) DON'T BE ALARMED with the chapter ending number up. It might change. Even though a part of me was gunning for the highest word count in the fandom, I am debating leaving on a cliff hanger and then starting a sequel for the conclusion. Yay or Nay? Any strong feelings about this? Would that make the story less unwieldy? Let me know in the comments. </p><p>2) Also, I want to give a stern trigger warning: attempted suicide is talked about and depicted in this chapter one in which involves an LGBTQI student. No offense is meant, and again, please be advised if that is something you do not want to read about than don't, please. My intent is not to upset anyone. This story is rated M, and I feel with that rating it also provides a warning of content as well as story-lines.</p><p>3) The title and song are by The Replacements, called The Ledge. Daniel Waters has talked at length about how their music was very inspirational to the movie and only didn't appear on the soundtrack because the budget was too low to afford it. (As well as the HS being named after Paul Westerberg, JD's line: "Color Me Impressed" is a title of one of their songs too). I'm actually wearing a tour shirt as I type this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong> <em>I'm the boy they can't ignore,<br/></em> </strong> <strong> <em>For the first time in my life, I'm sure<br/></em> </strong> <strong> <em>All the love sent up high to pledge<br/></em> </strong> <strong> <em>Won't reach the ledge<br/></em> </strong></p><p>
  <strong> <em>-The Replacements (The Ledge)</em> </strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Wednesday Afternoon </em>
</p><p>“Please be honest. I won’t put a label on you, or send you to a hospital, but I really need to know if it’s something you've thought about.” Dr. Beckett brought up at one of their sessions, staring him right in the face. November was almost over and he had been going without complaint now for weeks. JD was loath to admit it, but he was actually enjoying it to an extent. He had never had anyone to talk to, never anyone who seemed to speak to him with empathy or some sort of clarity. His relationship with Veronica was special, to be sure, but this was different. He could speak freely of things with a doctor he couldn’t with her, and in many ways that was freeing. </p><p>“What?” JD asked, cold flooding through him.</p><p>“I need to ask this: have you ever thought about suicide?” JD looked down at his hands. “Suicides run in families a lot. You’ve told me a lot of things about yourself and your mother. It wouldn’t come out of nowhere.” He answered him truthfully.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> July, 1989 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Boston </em>
</p><p>
  <em> JD was sitting in his car overlooking the water. He wished he’d gone to the ocean more or that they lived in more places closer to the water like when he was little. He remembered his mother and him on the Gulf Coast beach. She loved the water and the sun. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had grabbed one of his dad’s pistols-- the one grandad had left them. It was in his hands, loaded. He marveled at the instrument of death. All he had to do was stick the barrel in his mouth, and pull the trigger and then… boom, all gone. All over. No more moving, no more “being the new kid,” no more taking care of his father and listening to his prattle. No more angry nights of him grabbing him, pushing him around or worse-- ignoring his existence all together. No more loneliness. No more pain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d thought about it a few times but now he was resolved. He was going to do it. He turned the radio on, he wanted to hear music as he did it all of a sudden. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dude, if I get one more request for the Big Fun song, I’m gonna commit suicide,” the radio DJ quipped right before the hit single, “Teenage Suicide (Don’t Do It)” played. It was a treacle After School Special kind of a hit, one of those well meaning but ultimately empty hits that parents and administrators liked since it didn’t delve too hard into the real issues but said quite plainly it’s message.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost comically JD put the gun down and laughed. “Of course!” He said out loud to no one in particular. “Of course this would play!” He laughed and laughed and laughed. Whatever haze had made the decision so clear in his mind seconds ago was gone. He put the safety on and unloaded the gun. No way in hell was he going to kill himself with that overplayed Big Fun song on the radio. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somewhere out there Big Fun must be pleased with themselves. They did it,  they kept him from pulling the trigger. Where did his old man say the next stop was? Some hole in the middle of nowhere, right? Sherwood, Ohio? Fuck, why not stick around for one more high school? </em>
</p><hr/><p>Chemistry was just as bad as it always was. What was surprising though was the absence of his lab partner. It was curious, he wasn’t the type to skip class and he had seen him in the halls that morning. He didn’t think too hard on it though. Some kid wants to cut, some kid wants to cut. Somewhere close to the end of the lecture JD got bored and wanted an excuse out. He raised his hand.</p><p>“He speaks. What insight into the chemical makeup of chlorophyll will you be gracing us with?” Mr. Jennings droned, not happy to have his lecture interrupted by the kid who talks back and is barely pulling in a C.</p><p>“Can I use the bathroom?” He asked. Mr. Jennings rolled his eyes and gave him the bathroom pass wordlessly. Lunch wasn’t that far off and JD took his time, using the toilet in the south end of the campus’s. The “smoker’s bathroom” or the “drug bathroom” as most kids called it-- owing to its remoteness from any administration and the fact that it had windows that opened up to quickly get rid of any evidence-- it was also the least used bathroom because of that very reason. After using the urinal and washing his hands JD heard a scuffle in the stall that startled him. He didn’t think anyone was in there.</p><p>“Hey, you alright man?” He asked the stall, confused. He didn’t particularly care if some dude was smoking or getting high in there, but he didn’t want this to accidentally turn around on him and get blamed for the incident if some kid did OD in the school bathroom. The scuffle and noise continued. He peered down and didn’t see any feet below the stall but when he looked up he saw a very strange thing: a rope tied to the exposed piping. A weird cold ripped through him and without a thought he kicked the door open.</p><p>What he saw was his lab partner, referred to by most as D&amp;D Jeff, with a rope tied around his neck and the other end tied to the exposed pipe on the ceiling. JD stared at him-- and the other boy stared back-- stunned. <em> Well, </em> JD thought, <em> that was unexpected. </em>“It’s not going to work.” JD said conversationally, breaking the silence and leaning against the stall, casually. </p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” He retorted, fear suddenly gripping him. “Get out of here man. I’m serious.”<br/><br/>JD blinked, having no clue what to say or do. He was very out of his depth but kept talking anyway. “Well, if you were serious you would have thought it through a bit better. That rope is too long and the noose is too loose.” It was more an observation than anything else. Jeff glared at JD.</p><p>“Shut up, I’m gonna do it.” He was still poised on the toilet.</p><p>“Go ahead then, I’m waiting.” JD continued to casually lean against the stall, knowing that-- yes-- his rope was far too long for it to work and the noose too loose.</p><p>Jeff jumped.</p><p>When he landed his feet were on the ground and the rope hung loosely against them. Jeff stared at JD, stunned and scared like a rabbit caught in a flashlight.<br/><br/>“Hanging’s a lot more slow and painful than other methods too.” Jeff took the rope off from around his neck and sat on the toilet seat in a daze. </p><p>“Fuck, I have a 3.89 GPA. How did I screw that up?” It was like a spell had been broken. "I mean, look at this rope. It's clearly too long and loose. What-" Quickly he took the noose off around his neck and started untying it from the pipe. The idea of going through with it was gone from him so quickly it made him shake. </p><p>“No guns at home?” Jeff was taken aback.<br/><br/>“My parents don’t keep any in the house. We had the rope leftover from last time we went up north to the lake to put my grandpa’s fishing boat in. It seemed like the easiest option.”</p><p>JD looked at him. He was terrible with this sort of thing and for the first time in his life he wondered if he should get a teacher or something. Wordlessly though, he helped him clean everything up. Jeff tossed the rope in the trash and buried it under paper towels and toilet paper hoping the janitor wouldn’t notice. JD looked around the scene of the bathroom stall. A copy of <em>Catcher in the Rye </em> with a note attached to it rested on the toilet paper dispenser.</p><p>“<em>Catcher in the Rye </em>?” He asked curiously. “What, like Mark David Chapman?” He asked, surprised and confused, referring to the man who killed John Lennon.</p><p>“John Hinkley, Jr. had a copy too. And Robert John Bardo,” Jeff pointed out, referring to the man who attempted to kill Ronald Reagan over his love of Jodie Foster, and the man who murdered actress Rebecca Schaeffer.</p><p>“But they were all stalkers who either tried to or did murder their victims. Are you stalking someone?” He tried to grab the book back but JD kept a hold of it.</p><p>“No- It was just- look, I just thought it was interesting, okay? Splashy. A guy I used to game with was into conspiracy theories and he told me about how <em>Catcher in the Rye</em> is supposed to be a CIA trigger and I- I don’t know.” He sat on the toilet with his head in his hand. “I don't know! It all- it all seemed to make sense a few minutes ago,” he said quietly, shaking, and now looking scared with a few tears springing to his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come in. I was hoping it would be a jock to find me, maybe do some permanent damage to one of them. Oh god… what was I thinking?” He started running his hands through his hair, shaking lightly.<br/><br/>A look of understanding crossed his face. “Oh, I get it. This was revenge. Be a martyr-- have your parents cry that they would have forgiven you for any sin. Teachers and students cry they hardly knew you. ‘Maybe we should all have been more understanding.’” He shrugged.</p><p>“There was more to it than that.” He glanced at the note. JD picked it up and read it.</p><p>
  <em> I’m so sorry mom and dad. I hated hiding who I was from you and this way you’ll never have to worry about it. I know you’ll be upset. I’m sorry. </em>
</p><p>A twinge of recognition passed through him as he realized he wasn’t entirely unable to relate. “When I was about to do it I drove to the water with a gun,” JD told him with a sense of normalcy and nonchalant-ness he didn’t expect. Jeff stared at him, aghast he’d admit to something that big that easily. “Figured something violent, something loud. Be found quickly. Nice view.” Jeff stared at him, flummoxed by the admission as well as his conversational tone.</p><p>“What? You tried to commit suicide? You? Why the fuck would you want to do that?” JD looked back at the kid stunned.</p><p>“Why not?” He was genuinely curious.</p><p>“Well... you’re cool! You're smart, good looking, you can clearly fight back against those pricks, you’re straight and dating one of the prettiest girls in school… and you have sex, if the rumors are true, and on a regular basis! And you have a car,” Jeff sputtered back at him. JD was startled, he had never heard anyone describe him as lucky or privileged. “And you don’t seem to care about any of it. What they say about you, if they make fun of you… it doesn’t faze you. They call you psycho and you just stare back at them, unfazed.” JD snorted.</p><p>He leaned against the sink and looked at the floor. He had no idea what compelled him to tell his lab partner all of this. He had never been one to council anyone, try to help. All he knew was that this guy he knew-- a guy he had seen get treated like dirt by the other guys, who Veronica had told a funny story about, who he talked to minimally in class-- was at a bad place. He talked because he didn’t know what else to do. And if sharing his sob story kept him from finishing his task? Well, JD didn’t know. He did it anyway though. “Well, I’ve been moved around by my dad so much in the last nine years I can hardly keep up with what state I’m in. My dad’s best described as a functioning drunk who can be verbally and physically abusive when he’s had a few too many. When I was nine my mother killed herself by walking into a building that was about to be blown up by my father while I sat on a bench outside watching.” Jeff was taken aback by the laundry list of tragedy.<br/><br/>“Fuck," he said, stunned by that schpiel. "Put it that way, maybe you should kill yourself.” Instead of JD being offended by that he laughed. Hard. Jeff joined in with him, the mood having changed drastically.<br/><br/>“Fuck you.” JD paused and told him seriously, “you’re wrong about one thing.” Jeff looked up at him, questioningly. “It does bother me,” he admitted. Jeff looked surprised. “It does bother me when they call me shit like ‘psycho’ or ‘freak.’ I just don’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that it does. I learned a long time ago that that’s all they really want-- they want to know they hurt you, see that they have power over you.” <em> My dad taught me all kinds of stuff. </em> He changed the topic. “Enough about me. What’s yours?”<br/><br/>“Huh?”<br/><br/>“Why chuck it all in?” Jeff crumpled the note and raked his hands down his face.<br/><br/>“Fuck, you see it, right? They won’t stop. Those two.” Kurt and Ram. JD knew. “And it’s not just them, they set the tone here for everyone’s nasty behavior. And, fuck, it’s- it’s- they’re not wrong I’m-,” he breathed deeply, realizing he’d never said it out loud before-- not even alone. “I’m gay,” he said, swallowing the word whole for the first time and on the verge of real tears. “And they’re- I mean, they’re just calling me that to goad me, fuck what if they knew it was true? Then what? They kick me around and tease me for just being smaller than them and liking dorky stuff. But if the truth got out? God, it’s not just the kids at school. My parents would- I don’t even know. They already get pissed about the D&amp;D stuff ever since they read an article about it leading to satanism. If they realized I was-” JD stared at him, this kid he barely knew spilling his guts out to him. Jeff stopped talking, unsure how to even finish.</p><p><em> “</em>Veronica once told me, ‘everyone’s life’s got static.’ God, none of us should think killing ourselves is an escape.” JD’s life may have hurt, but this kid… none of it was fair and he shouldn’t have to live like this, scared to be himself. His choices shouldn’t be to hide or-- god forbid-- kill himself to escape.</p><p>Jeff's tone softened. “How is Veronica? We were friends in middle school. She liked reading a lot of fantasy novels about girls who go on adventures or have psychic powers. We went to the 8th grade semi-formal together. Did she tell you I was her first kiss?” JD smiled, and nodded. “She was mine too. Only kiss, actually, with a girl I mean.” </p><p>“Yeah, heard you accidentally groped her too.” Jeff groaned at the memory.</p><p>“Oh God, I was so freaked. All of it felt wrong and all I kept thinking was, ‘what’s wrong with you? She’s a pretty girl, what’s wrong with you?’ Then at camp that summer there was a guy in my cabin. He liked drawing maps and games too. We ended up at night together and--” he got startled, not realizing again he’d never told anyone this story and also that the straight dude probably didn’t want to hear it. “Nevermind.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” JD was bad at all this, but he had learned lately that oftentimes listening without judgement was all people wanted sometimes. "You can talk. If you want."<br/><br/>“We never talked about it, even though it kept happening. I didn’t go back to camp again and we never wrote.” He shrugged, trying not to remember how good kissing him had felt. <em> Todd </em> , <em> his name was Todd, </em>he thought.</p><p>“You’ll leave here and meet other people. Other guys who are--” he didn’t know how to have this conversation. “I mean, I’ve been all over the place and you’re not the first dude I’ve met who’s-- well, like that.” JD got nervous and weird all of a sudden. What was therapy doing to him? Making him a listener. “It’s different when you get out of the suburbs and the small towns. Go to some big city, get lost there. It’s much better with more people crammed on top of each other. At least I think. When we were in Boston I didn’t even know my neighbor’s name and they didn’t know mine. It was fantastic.”</p><p>“Yeah maybe.”</p><p>“I-” JD seemed embarrassed to admit to it. “I talk to a doctor. A shrink. Twice a week. I thought it was bullshit at first but- I don’t know. It’s been, well, nice to talk to someone. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe you should talk to someone. Ask your folks? When you're 18 it's all confidential.” JD shrugged. Jeff nodded.</p><p>“I should do that. Maybe talk to the school shrink and get him to send a note home. It would be the only way they’d listen.” JD stared at him, wanting to help the only way he really knew how. </p><p>“Fuck. I’m no good at this. I was going to meet Veronica and buy her a Slurpee for lunch. Wanna come? I got you one too.”</p><p>“Really?” He asked, surprised. Jeff sat a table in the cafeteria for lunch normally with some of the other geeky outsiders. He sat there by association but none of them were really his friends. The guys he gamed with were from Jefferson and Washington or went to Remmington already. He had met them through a meet up through the mall’s game store. They had fun and gamed but they weren’t really “friends” in the “let’s hang out at the 7/11 or get a slice” sense. He couldn’t remember the last time he just hung out with other kids from Westerberg.</p><p>“Yeah. Come on, let’s go.” He checked his watch. Lunch period was about to start. “The place only, you know, never closes.”</p><p>“Um, I know it’s weird to ask but-” He looked at him worried. “Can you not tell anyone about this? Not even Veronica?” He waved vaguely at the bathroom. “I don’t mean to ask you to lie to your girlfriend it’s just-”</p><p>“I won’t. Not my secret to tell. I get it. I won’t say anything. Hey, we’ll get some slushies, maybe a hot dog? I think her friend Martha will be there too.” Jeff nodded. He grabbed his bag. As they were about to leave Jeff stopped. “Um, I don't know how to- um- thank-”<br/><br/>“It’s cool.” They both relaxed and the bell rang. A second later another boy pushed through the bathroom door to go to the urinal. They both made their exit, trying to strangely act like nothing had just really happened.</p><p>Veronica was waiting at the car leaning against it huddled in her coat. The temperature was dropping. She stamped her feet and breathed on her hands. Martha was standing next to her waiting for him to unlock the door too. “There you are! Open up! We're freezing. Only you would want an icee when it’s dipping below 50!” It was then that she noticed Jeff Ryan. “Oh! Hey Jeff,” she said, perplexed. Martha let a small wave out before slipping it back in her pocket. She didn’t dislike him, it was just… not who she expected trailing behind them. </p><p>“Um, he’s coming with us. Told him it’d be fun.” Veronica and Martha looked at each other and then at him. He didn’t invite people. Veronica foisted company on him. This was a new development and not one she could really see any fault in. Just surprising.</p><p>“Um, cool,” she replied more surprised than upset. “Hey Jeff.” He tentatively waved as he got in the backseat with Martha and they exchanged a couple of “hey’s.”<br/><br/>They spent the lunch in good company and got back in time to spare. Martha and Jeff surprisingly got along well even if they hadn’t really talked since eighth grade when they sort of all hung out. There were some laughs. Some jokes. It was a good lunch all in all.</p><p>“So?” Veronica asked as they separated from Martha and Jeff and went to her locker before heading to Days of Our Lives study hall.</p><p>“So, what?” He asked, pretending he didn’t know what she was asking about. “He needed to eat lunch with somebody.” Veronica smiled at him.  “What?” He asked.</p><p>“It’s just- You’re a good guy. That’s all.” She kept smiling to herself about it.<br/><br/>“Shut up,” he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her over to kiss the side of her head. She leaned into him gladly. His heart dropped though when he looked over and saw Kurt and Ram slyly walk behind Jeff as he was putting some books away in his locker and bump him into the door, hitting his head on it. Jeff involuntarily let out a pained wince of "ow!"</p><p>“Fuck,” JD breathed. That was the last thing this guy needed today.</p><p>“Oh, jeez, sorry,” Ram said, not meaning it. "Better watch yourself little guy." They both laughed. Jeff didn’t just take it as they laughed though. Not this time. Not after today. No, instead of taking it he turned around and took a swing at him. Ram was so caught of guard by it it connected. It wasn't enough to KO him, but it got a stunned yelp of pain out of him.</p><p>“Little shit!” Ram said, more shocked than hurt. “Grab his arms!” He instructed his buddy. Kurt held him as Ram punched his nose, causing some bleeding. Without thinking JD burst from Veronica's side and ran over and grabbed Kurt off of Jeff just as Ram was about to get him again. At that moment Mr. Keene hauled ass down the hall to the fight to break it up. </p><p>“Oh Jesus, not you again. That’s it! Mr. Dean, my office this-” JD closed his eyes and grimaced but not sorry one bit. He didn't mind taking the fall in this one again. He wasn’t doomed though. With a resolve he hadn’t felt in a long time Jeff stood up, wiped the blood from his nose and spoke up.</p><p>“It- it wasn’t him, Mr. Keene. He was trying to break it up. To grab me off him. It was me,” Jeff said, with a strength that didn’t just surprise the students watching, but also Mr. Keene and mostly himself. “I started it. I sucker punched Ram,” he said, almost proud. “JD had nothing to do with it.” Stunned JD distanced himself from the whole thing and wandered back towards Veronica. She joined him as they both-- and the gathered students-- watched as Jeff Ryan was about to be marched down to the Vice Principal’s office for fighting for the first time in his entire academic life.</p><p>“Than in my office Mr. Ryan, um, now,” he said to the young man, just as surprised as anyone watching.</p><p>“I think I may need to also see the school counselor,” he said to him, with a calm resolve he hadn’t felt in his teenage years.</p><p>“Um, yeah. That sounds good.” Noticing the lookie-loos Mr. Keene snapped out of his surprise. “All right everyone! Show's over! To your classes!” He yelled at the student body and clapped his hands as everyone dispersed. </p><hr/><p>
  <em> Saturday Afternoon </em>
</p><p>“Hating him is fine,” Dr. Beckett told JD as they were in another session.</p><p>“What?” He asked, surprised. They had been discussing-- shocker-- his dad and more plans on how to get him out by February when he was eighteen.</p><p>“Hating him,” he told him. “It’s okay to hate your dad. It’s okay to hate someone in general.” </p><p>“Aren’t you going to tell me I must forgive him? Work it out? Aren’t I supposed to never use the word hate?” He was stunned to be told that he shouldn't "smile on your brother and try to love one another right now" or some jazz.</p><p>“Where is that written? If he’s only half as bad as you tell me I still would tell you to leave and never look back. It’s okay to hate, it’s just not okay to let it fester or to take any drastic action against the person who you hate.” JD let that sit inside him, but didn’t respond. “I hated Spiro Agnew but I didn’t show up at his door with a loaded weapon.”</p><p>JD scoffed.“He’s not the vice president.”</p><p>“No, he’s your dad. He’s supposed to love you unconditionally, not the other way around." They continued talking but it was the one thing he took from the session that day that really hit him hard:</p><p><em> It's okay to hate,</em> <em>it's just not okay to let it fester or to take any drastic action against the person who you hate.</em></p><p>Including yourself, he added after much thought.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, I want to stress the seriousness of suicide among LGBTQI youth and I hope no offense is taken. I wanted to not approach it like an After School Special/Very Special Episode much like the movie famously did. Again, I hope it works. This story is set in 1989 and clearly the same resources were not available then as they are now. </p><p>This is a link to the Trevor project, which does good work in intervention for many youths in crisis: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Down At the Crossroads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD confronts his dad and is confronted with a choice. Everyone comes to a crossroad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. On top of some personal things it's about 90 where I am and with no a/c it can be hard to concentrate on anything, even the important stuff. But here's the next installment. As usual a thank you to everyone's comments and kudos. I hope it came out okay, this chapter kind of kicked my ass and I worry about it, but I always do.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “Veronica? Honey? We’re right here.” Veronica heard the worried voice of her father echoing in the edges of her brain. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Veronica? Please. We just want you to wake up,” her mother said as well. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>JD was in his room Sunday morning. He was on his bed and he was staring at pamphlets and applications. Community College training programs. As he had predicted, his guidance counselor had thrown some military fliers at him and some community college brochures before asking him to send the next student in with little fanfare. The whole meeting lasted five minutes. When Veronica had asked him about it he diverted the attention with a charmingly sarcastic remark, slid his arm around her, and offered to take her for lunch. She didn’t bring it back up, for which he was grateful. He loved her and knew her needling about college was well intentioned but... what he needed was parental advice, but knew he'd never get it. He felt weird doing it, but he asked the next best thing.</p><p>Yesterday at his appointment with Dr. Beckett he showed him the brochures and JD had been less than enthused about most of them. To be fair though, he’d barely gone through any of them.</p><p>“Well now, let’s not discredit some of these programs.” He held one of the pamphlets up. “Civil engineering. That could be good for you.”<br/>
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“What’s that?” JD asked, curious, but trying not to get his hopes up too much.</p><p>“It’s building bridges, trains, land surveying… you could do this. You said your dad had you work on his demolition sites in the summer, right?” He inwardly groaned. It was back breaking drudge work running cables and lugging stuff around. But he wasn’t wrong: he didn’t hate it and he picked most of it up quickly. What he hated was his father yelling at him, or belittling him in front of the other crew but the few times the other guys showed him the technicalities of how some equipment worked he picked it up quickly and enjoyed it. Despite what his teachers may think chemistry, physics, and math were subjects he understood well and enjoyed.</p><p>“Isn’t that, like, MIT genius stuff though? I don’t really have the grades for that and I didn’t even take the SATS,” he responded, trying not to build up any dreams.</p><p>“Take them next year, after you graduate. You don’t have to take them in 11th grade." JD shrugged. "Or you go to junior college first, work hard there and then transfer into a university program. Look, if it doesn’t fit, you try something else. There’s other skills you might find work doing with classes like that. They really don’t do you kids a service by pushing these life changing decisions on you at 18 and you always have a right to change your mind.” JD reconsidered some of the pamphlets and started genuinely thinking of life after high school for the first time in his life.</p><p>He was sitting on his bed now, with his notebook on his lap to write on top of. It was an application to a community college program starting next fall. It wasn’t too expensive, and there were related jobs he could take in the meantime. His priority was moving, but it didn’t hurt to fill out a couple of applications. Maybe he could figure out a way to do both.</p><p>Without warning his dad barged into his room. He never knocked. “Quit jerking off and start- what the hell is all of this? You don't do homework.” JD quickly tried to hide the pamphlets and application but his father managed to grab one as well as the application.</p><p>“It’s nothing, just something the school gave me.” He tried to reach for it back but his father kept a hold on it.<br/>
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“What is this? College? Civil engineering…?” He laughed. “You think you have the grades for this kind of thing?” He threw the pamphlet back at him. JD breathed in and out.</p><p>“I could go to junior college first, get my transcripts-” His father scoffed some more. </p><p>“Wow, you must be dreaming if you think I’m gonna pay for a program like this. You don’t need any fancy degree for this shit, I do this crap every day and I didn’t go to college.” <em> Yeah, and they were going to draft you instead. </em></p><p>“It’s different then what you do,” he said quietly, feeling his tentative planning fly right out of him. “It’s building things. Like bridges and tunnels and-” His father shook his head. It wasn’t worth the breath to argue with his kid, they were moving again after all.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Pack your shit up. I need to be in Virginia by Monday.”</p><p>“Wait,” he said, his stomach plummeting. “What? Moving? Now?” His father looked taken aback, he knew the drill.</p><p>“The jobs I had here are over and the next one lined up is in Virginia. Come on, I already secured a place in Chesapeake,” he responded, ensuring that it was a done deal.</p><p>“But, it’s- I thought-” What did he think? That he’d get to spend his senior year in one place? That he’d figure out how to get out before the next move? That just as he was getting his act together and finding some sanity and happiness that he’d-</p><p>He should have known better, his dad had been fucking up his life for the last seventeen years, why’d he think it’d be any different now?</p><p>“Pack your stuff up, say your goodbyes- I want to leave early Saturday morning and be in Chesapeake before nightfall.” He grabbed the crumpled up application from him and found his resolve.</p><p>“I’m not moving again,” he said quietly, but sternly, making a decision. Whatever was going to happen, he was not leaving Sherwood, Ohio without a fight. JD thought, really thought, and made his decision. His father looked taken aback, then laughed and pushed his shoulder rough, but not enough to shake him. </p><p>“Come on, you know how this works. Just get your stuff and throw it in my van, follow in your car and get a move on it. I want to make good time on Saturday. Get all the shit straightened out at school tomorrow.” </p><p>“No,” he responded, trying to remain as calm as possible. “I'm 18 in three months. I just want to stay in one spot for the rest of the year, graduate, and then move out. You can do whatever you please after that. It’s just 7 months left in my last year of school.” He made eye contact with his father whose face was unreadable. “Look, I haven’t complained at all in the last 9 years about traipsing around the country with you. I think you owe me this.”</p><p>His father’s face twisted. “Owe you?” He repeated, his tone suddenly dark. “Owe you? Who the hell’s been feeding and putting a roof over your head your whole life? Owe you?” He scoffed. “Who paid for that car? And to gas it up?” JD had heard enough.</p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake. I buy the groceries, make dinner, and make sure the bills are paid. It’s not like I don’t pull my weight. I’d get a job if I didn’t pick up and go every few months.”</p><p>Bud Dean laughed and hit his head in an exaggerated comical way. “Oh, this is about your little girlfriend.” He reached over and plucked the pictures off one of his boxes they had taken the other week. They were laying on his couch downstairs, he had his lips pressed against the side of her head and his arm out to take the picture as she laughed. He threw it on the ground causing a thump of pain to flood him at the insult to their relationship and Veronica herself. “Look, I’m glad you finally managed to find a girl willing to part her legs for you, to be honest I was starting to worry you might be a fag, but there are plenty of them out there in all the states.” His father chortled again, but all it did was make JD madder. </p><p>“What did you say?</p><p>“You heard me, sport, let’s just go.” JD stared at his dad. Really stared at him. He hated the man. </p><p>“Who the hell do you think takes care of you when you come home loaded?” The insult-- the unspoken elephant in their screwed up father and son relationship-- reverberated through the whole house. Bud Dean walked away from his son and to his office.</p><p>“You might want to shut up now,” he growled at him heading towards his office.</p><p>“No. No, we are going to talk about this!” JD followed him and stood in the door as his father loaded up paperwork into his boxes. “God almighty, I hate you,” JD told him. Not in anger though, in honesty. Bud rolled his eyes and walked down to his office.</p><p>“Gee dad, parents just don’t understand,” he responded, mockingly. JD lost his shit, officially. </p><p>“Oh shut up. No more stupid jokes. No, I hate you. Like, actually hate you. You get that, right?” He continued packing up the papers and other equipment. “I’ve spent the last few months figuring out how to leave you.” A tremor of anger and fear rose up and threw Bud Dean at that threat.</p><p>“End this temper tantrum now. Pack your boxes up. We’re leaving at nine AM Saturday morning.” JD tapped his leg. He had already made the decision that no matter what it took he would not be joining his dad in Virginia.</p><p><em> Fuck it. Fuck it all. </em>“My mother’s dead because of you,” he accused his father. He had said it without really thinking, knowing it would provoke him beyond anything else he had said that night-- even about his drinking.  The one thing in the Dean house-- wherever that house was-- that had remained unsaid for 9 years was finally said. It had always been at the brim of every conversation, every remark, every slight or jibe from son to father but today the unspoken agreement had finally been broken.</p><p>“You don’t know shit about your mom,” Bud Dean said, dropping the items from his hand and turning towards him with a dark look in his eye.</p><p>“You hit her, right?” He asked, unwilling to let the train that left his mouth back into the station. “Never anywhere that anyone could see, but after you had a few you did?” Memories of being very little, in the bathtub, his mom’s sleeves rolled up, the red marks around her wrist that looked like fingers… “You yelled at her. Never loud enough for strangers to hear. She wanted to leave, didn’t she? Take me far away? I know why she never left you. Think I was too young and stupid to hear it? God, the house was a one story with two bedrooms! ‘If you leave I’ll never let you see him again.’ You fucking used me as leverage against her!”</p><p>“Look, you stupid kid-”</p><p>“You used me as a pawn to fuck with her! She knew damn well what she was doing when she walked into that building in Texas! You pressed the trigger. You pressed the fucking trigger you son of a bitch!” JD cried, his temper officially blown.</p><p>Without a thought, his father took a swing at him. It was not the kind he got every now and then when he was a kid, too little to fight back-- the kind Bud Dean knew could easily knock a small kid on his ass with-- but the kind that a man would use on another man. JD ducked just at the right moment. “What?" he asked, recovering from the shock of his seventeen year old sons reflexes. He chortled, angry. "You think you can finally stand up to me like a man? Little prick.” JD  hit him back. JD held himself back, only slightly. Bud Dean recovered, mildly shocked.</p><p>“You fucker,” he snarled back as his father’s fists retaliated and connected to his stomach causing the wind to knock out him and fall to the ground. With pain and determination he got right back up. JD was no stranger to a fight. Years of being the new kid waiting for a beat down had prepared him for the one fist fight he’d always wanted to have and knew would one day come: the inevitable one between him and his father. His next punch connected and his father reacted with a cry, equals parts in anger and honest surprise. In a rage he pushed his son back into the wall causing him to lose his footing, he picked him up by the scruff of his neck and swung at him one more time. JD got out from underneath his grasp and hit him again. They exchanged blows for what was probably a few seconds, but felt like hours, fueled on years of pent up anger.</p><p>It wasn’t a fight like the ones he had gotten into at school. His dad was on the wrong side of forty, a chronic alcoholic who did not eat properly and not in shape for one, though he did give his son a good knock around. The key difference though was that his father had access to firearms. In a fit of raw anger and impulse he grabbed it from the table where he had it, packing up earlier.</p><p>JD blinked at him, stunned that his own father could pull a weapon on him and he froze, his hands up like the most surreal real game of cops and robbers a father and son had ever played. Big Bud Dean did not back down. “Get out of my house. Now.”</p><p>“Don’t worry. I won’t come back.” JD hauled ass to the door and grabbed his coat and car keys and slammed the door behind him leaving his father to rot for all he cared, tearing out of the driveway with a screech he hoped pissed off the neighbors. He hoped they heard the fight. Hoped they were calling in a noise complaint. </p><p>He drove around aimlessly for a solid hour trying to get all the feelings of rage and anger out of him. He thought about getting a slushie but he realized too late that his wallet was back at his dad’s house. The one he had just been kicked out slash walked out on. It was after dark when he parked, got out and wandered around to find himself in Veronica’s backyard. It was inevitable, he guessed. Her light was on and he saw her at her desk, writing in her journal. He needed to see her. He tapped lightly on the window. Startled, she opened it. </p><p>“JD?” She asked, surprised. “What are you-- oh my god, what happened?” She asked as she caught a look at his face. As quietly as she could she helped him through the window, his muttering of ‘ow’ and her of ‘sorry’ accompanying them. All the while she kept trying to keep the noise down hoping her parents in the living room couldn't hear him.</p><p>“You should see the other guy,” he replied, trying to sound charming as the pain of the injuries from the fight started to genuinely throb.<br/>
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“Should I?” she asked nervously. He walked over and collapsed on her bed, the adrenaline that accompanied his fight and earlier anger now faded, exhaustion having now taken its place.</p><p>Veronica stared at him, worried as hell. “Wait here,” she told him as she snuck into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit her mom kept in there and slipped into the kitchen for a freezer bag of old peas and a large ice pack her mom kept in there for her own bad back. She could hear the TV in the living room and the muffled laughter of her parents watching Cheers. Good, they watched the entire Thursday lineup and were usually passed out by the time LA Law came on, if not earlier.</p><p>She found JD spread out on her bed with his boots off and his arm over his face. </p><p>He looked up at her and smiled weekly. “You know, I’ve been mentally debating what kind of night clothes you wear to sleep alone. I’d rather hoped it was a sexy slip or a teddy but seeing you in nothing but a massively oversized Bruce Springsteen tour shirt and plaid shorts gives new meaning to calling him ‘The Boss.’” She awkwardly hadn’t even realized what she was wearing but she knew what he was doing.</p><p>“Don’t do that. Come on.” She was talking about the sarcasm, the charm. She knew he used humor to deflect the severity of the situation-- he had done it every time she asked about his dad, or his future plans. She had called him out on it before and he relented.</p><p>“Sorry. I’m just-” He didn’t know how to finish. She walked over and she had him take off his flannel and shirt. There was going to be bruises on his side from where his dad slammed him into the wall he realized. She touched them tenderly to hear him wince. She kept mumbling her apologies before placing the large ice pack on his side.<br/>
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“Sit up.” He complied and she got to work on his face. She opened up the isopropenyl bottle and soaked a cotton ball with it. She dabbed the alcohol on him and he flinched ever so slightly from the sting. “Sorry,” she murmured. His eyes bore right into hers as he lifted his hand and caught her wrist lightly.</p><p>“Veronica, I didn’t come here for a nurse.”</p><p>“Why did you come here then?” She retorted, putting down the cotton swab.</p><p>“I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.” He shrugged. He looked defeated. He had always been so strong, at least to her, in any incarnation of events. He was Mr. Tough Guy, willing to take on two guys in the caf without breaking a sweat and managed to flash her a cocky smile afterwards. Even when he was at his worst in the original events, he refused to show any weakness, especially to her. When they had the fight a couple of weeks ago he had gotton honest, but he didn't look like this-- defeated and torn down. If anything, she believed, it was his refusal to show true weakness to that led to his spiral away from her. He shrugged off any insult, any blow. Any hurt he may have felt converted into anger. <em> Pain gives me clarity, </em> he had told her. Now here he was in her bedroom, defeated, and on the verge of tears from whatever the hell had just happened.<br/>
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She held up the first aid supplies and eyed him with the doe eyes she had realized had the same effect on him as his crooked grin. She figured now it was fair-- if he did that to her, she could do it to him every now and then. “Humor me? Please?” He nodded. She carefully cleaned his face. It wasn’t too bad after the blood was gone, just a small split lip. She handed him the packet of frozen peas and he placed it over his lip and face as soon as she was done.</p><p>“Now, tell me what happened.” He lowered the peas and considered her. <em> What am I doing </em>? He wondered. All of it. He was so tired and she was so kind. He reached out and touched her cheek and she smiled slightly, and put her hand over his and moved it over her mouth to kiss it. He was gone. Completely gone. The flood gates opened and he told her everything. The whole fight. Every word he said, his father said. The fact that he didn’t want to pack up and just go, that he finally hashed it out over what happened to his mom.</p><p>“Woah,” Veronica said, stunned. <em> Talk about changing events. </em>She was nearly speechless.</p><p>“Yeah.” She was still blinking, stunned.</p><p>“He actually pointed his gun at you?” She was aghast.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Woah.” Her mind raced. “We should call the cops and report it. He has no right-” He cut her off.</p><p>“I’m not going to turn him in to the cops,” he said, sullenly.</p><p>“Why?! He pointed a gun at you! His son! For no reason!” She couldn't even comprehend it.</p><p>He shrugged, unable to offer a real reason. “He’s my dad,” he responded dejectedly. “And, well… I’m not turning my dad in to the cops.”</p><p>“But-” He put a finger on her lips to quiet her.</p><p>“I hate him. I know. But… I can’t do that.” She tried to speak again and he cut her off. “I don’t get it either Veronica, Okay?” He opened and closed his eyes, trying to swallow his emotions. “Can you-? Can I-? I just want to lie down with you in my arms. Can I just hold you for a few minutes? Please.” Well, she wasn’t un-feeling. She nodded and took the ice pack, peas, and first aid kit and placed them on her nightstand, before acquiescing to his needs. She placed her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around him, and he adjusted himself so his were around her.</p><p>They were like that for a while until Veronica finally spoke. “Look, we’ll go tomorrow when he’s at work. Get your stuff. Ditch early if we have to.”</p><p>“Then what? Live out of my car?” Veronica didn’t know.</p><p>“I’ll ask mom and dad. I don’t know… Maybe… maybe you can stay here?”</p><p>He snorted. “Your dad hates me.”</p><p>“He doesn’t know you.”</p><p>“Your mom tolerates me because she thinks if they banned you from seeing me you’ll just want me more.” Veronica knew all of this was true.</p><p>“I can talk to them.”</p><p>“Veronica, come on. You and I both know your folks just want our relationship to fizzle out quickly and you to get back on the Ivy League track. They want you far away from me tucked away neatly in some dorm room on the east coast.” She breathed out, not wanting to admit he was right.</p><p>“Any other options right now?” He didn’t respond. “Look, just be quiet and stay here tonight, please? I don’t want you to be alone. We’ll figure something out tomorrow after that, okay?” </p><p>She left his arms momentarily to lock her door-- god forbid her parents saw him here like this-- and flipped off her light. He took off his pants to be a bit more comfortable but kept his shorts on underneath. It was so strange, she realized. They had had sex-- often-- and she had even fallen asleep with him the first time they were together and the night after, but this was the first time they had really <em> slept </em>together in a bed purposefully. Her bed at that. She climbed into her small bed and he clutched her tightly and they held each other. They both had never felt more intimate in that moment even though they were just quiet in bed together. “I do love you,” she whispered to him, unsure if he was asleep yet.</p><p>“I love you too,” he said, kissing the top of her head. It was strange, Veronica realized. There were times in their relationship so far now that it developed that were intense-- sexually at least-- and time when it was also intense-- emotionally. It was all so strange how both could exist.</p><p>The next morning she awoke to him running his hand down her back and clutching her. She reached up and kissed him. “Where’d you park your car?” She said when she parted, suddenly realizing her parents might spot it.<br/>
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“Down the street,” he told her as he groaned painfully sore and got out of her small bed to put his clothes back on. He ran his fingers through his hair after he put his pants back on and reached for his shirt and flannel. His coat was on her desk chair.</p><p>“All right. Be quiet. My parents are usually up soon.” She got a proper look at him. There was a nasty bruise on his side but luckily his face didn’t look too bad save for the split lip. There was a shiner on his face, but there wasn’t much to do about that now. “Um. In, like, an hour pull up in front like usual?” He nodded. “I’ll grab some breakfast and lunch for you, okay?” He kissed her one more time before escaping through her window, quietly as possible, to where he left his car last night.</p><p>She got dressed and grabbed her backpack and made her way downstairs and greeted her parents for breakfast quickly putting the first aid kit, peas, and ice pack. </p><p>“Morning honey,” her mother said, getting her two breakfasts together like what had become the norm. "Why were the ice packs out?" She asked, concerned.</p><p>"Oh, nothing serious. Just, you know, um... that time of the month?" She lied.</p><p>"Oh, bit early?"</p><p>"Well, better early than late, right?" She laughed. Her mother wasn't amused. But a joke like that was preferable than the truth.</p><p>“Morning peanut,” her dad said ignoring the lady talk. “My god, can you believe the Berlin Wall came down? Now Poland?” Her father asked her, incredulous. He was so wrapped up in his newspaper-- and as selfish as it sounded-- she was glad her father was wrapped up in the news and hadn’t heard her boyfriend leave her room early that morning.</p><p>“It’s crazy, I know,” she just replied. Nervously, she threw some food together for the two of them and waited for him to pull up. She loved her parents dearly, but it was criminal how easy it was to get away with things like a boyfriend sleeping over in her room the night before without them noticing.</p><p>She heard the honk of his horn.</p><p>“There’s JD, I’m gonna motor,” she said, wanting to get out quicker than usual. “I’m helping him with a thing after school, okay?” </p><p>Her mother had “that look” on her face. “He should ring the doorbell properly Veronica. You don’t deserve to be beckoned with a horn.”</p><p>“Mom…” She had heard it before. Over and over again. She just didn’t think it was a big deal like her parents did. Besides, given the events of last night, she just didn’t think it was a big deal right that moment in particular.</p><p>She quickly kissed them both and ran out the door.</p><p>“Hey,” she said to him, even though they had only seen each other an hour before.</p><p>“Hey,” he replied, turning towards the school. “We’ll go at about two, okay? He’s usually at work until four. It’s not that much stuff.” He bit into his apple whilst holding the steering wheel.</p><p>“It’s a plan.”</p><p>That afternoon JD and Veronica pulled up to his house at two on the dot. Unfortunately, as she saw in the driveway when they arrived- “His car’s here,” he said.</p><p>“Shit,” she responded. “What do you want to do? You have to get in there. You’re wallet’s in there, birth certificate, social security card… a change of clothes.” He was silent, contemplating. Veronica puffed up her resolve and said, “I’ll go in first. I don’t want you to talk to him. You’re going to start fighting or… look, he doesn’t know anything about me, what’s he going to do to me?”</p><p>His eyes were dark and she could tell his hackles were raised. “I don’t want you to go in there by yourself. Alone? If he-”</p><p>“JD. Just wait outside. If there’s trouble I’ll come right back out.” He grumbled and mumbled but her resolve stayed true. He also knew that she wasn’t wrong-- he couldn’t survive too much longer on the few dollars he found randomly in his inner coat pocket and no change of clothes. He had already awkwardly snuck into the gym locker room that morning for a quick shower before class. He walked with her to the door to let her know he was right behind her.</p><p>She walked into the Dean’s rented house. When she opened the door and walked towards the living room to ascertain where his dad was she was a bit aghast. There were beer cans all over the living room floor. Like, a lot. She tried to sneak up to JD’s room but the figure on the couch holding a half empty bottle of Canadian whisky noticed her. Whisky. She wondered when he had given up the beer and transferred to the hard stuff. She froze in her steps. The figure saw her and opened his arms wide. “Hey there cute thing! Jason’s not here but I know you’re always up for a good time!” He was wasted, like, really wasted. Veronica froze, unsure of how to handle this.</p><p>She had an uncle that would get drunk at every family event, and she’d seen her dad occasionally after two or three beers at the holidays, but they were usually funny and in a good mood-- a fun family joke. Dad liked to sing old Frank Sinatra songs, her uncle once put a lampshade on his head and danced to “Tequila.” She had seen kids in high school parties drunk but that was after a bunch of shots and they usually passed out quickly. She had vague memories of her former life-- a roommate that always stumbled in after a party, occasionally putting loud music on at random hours of the night-- but Veronica had never had the pleasure to be around a first-class alcoholic when he was in the midst of a full blown lost weekend. And from what little info JD had let loose, she understood him to be quite a mean one too.</p><p>She was taken unaware when he took her arms and forced her to start dancing to the faint soundtrack of 60s dino rock he had been listening to on the record player. <em> Cream, maybe? </em> It was one her dad liked, she thought. <em>No, Iron Butterfly. In A Gadda Da Vida. </em>Her dad told her once it was a seventeen minute song. Veronica had no idea what to do. She tried to break his grip but it was like iron.</p><p>“Um, Mr. Dean. We’ve met. I’m Veronica. You’re son’s- um, girlfriend. We’re just getting his stuff. He's right outside.”</p><p>“Oh look at your pretty hair…” Veronica was getting nervous. “Such a pretty and fun girl.” Oh boy, was he loaded right now. He put his head on her shoulder shooting cold down her spine as she heard a sob explode from him. His grip on her was iron tight and she had no frame of thought to prepare her for a situation like this with someone she thought of as an “adult” or a “parent.”</p><p>“Veronica,” she repeated, scared. “We met briefly. Jason’s girlfriend. We just came for his stuff. We’ll be out of here before you know it. Please let me go.” She struggled to get out of his grip and she panicked deeper as his grip tightened. "JD!" She called, hoping he could hear her.</p><p>“Veronica? So pretty. Just like my Valerie.” He reached out and fingered the small tuft of hair JD always liked to play with, still maintaining his grip on her arm. </p><p>“Please, let me go.” She froze solid, scared. He was much bigger than her, heavily intoxicated, and she was well aware of his propensity to abuse and she had precious little experience with situations like this-- and hoped dearly that this would be the last.</p><p>“Veronica…” His eyes lingered down her body tensing her up. Shock and fear were keeping her still. “God, you even smell just like she did.” Her eyes widened in shock and she heard the click of a gun.</p><p>“Get the fuck off her,” JD said in a tone that honestly scared the shit out of her. She saw him pointing one of his dad’s guns at him. That was the last thing she remembered as she heard the beeps of a machine and a bright light, like a flashlight, in her face.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “Get a nurse! A doctor somebody!” She heard her father yell.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh gosh, yes, she’s waking up,” her mother’s voice said soon after as Veronica’s eyes fluttered open-- unable to adjust to the light. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s-” she wanted to say, but she couldn’t speak. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t try and talk sweetie.” Her grip on her hand was tight as she brought it to her lips and kissed it fiercely. </em>
</p><p>What the fu- <em> was all she could think.  </em>No, no, no!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is far from over. Act 3 to begin shortly. I don't do spoilers but know this: NOT A JACOB'S LADDER SITUATION.</p><p>Kudos and comments are appreciated! I don't think my timeline on when the Berlin Wall fell lines up perfectly, but, well, let's go with it.</p><p>I'll most likely be updating my other multi-chapter story this week as well. (If you are inclined for a supernatural spin on Heathers check that out as well!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Zuzu's Petals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica Sawyer makes a decision.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! I apologize for these delays. Seriously. It's been consistently in the 90s here. Ugh. The title is a reference to It's a Wonderful Life which along with Quantum Leap were the inspirations for this story to begin with. </p><p>Also, read it to the end. Trust me guys. </p><p>Well, without further ado...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ms. Sawyer? Ms. Sawyer? Can you hear me?” Veronica turned her head back to the attention of the doctor. He had been clicking his fingers to get her to pay attention to him. Everything was so bright and sharp in this world. Was it always like this? The doctor turned his flashlight off that he was using to look in her eyes. Oh, that's where the light was coming from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sorry. Um, yes. I have feeling in my leg a little bit, but moving it still is not really a thing yet.” He gently took a pin and poked it in her big toe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you feel that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good.” She had been given the nitty gritty of her injuries not long after waking up: one broken and banged up leg, a broken arm, head trauma, and a hell of a lot of scrapes, stitches, and bruises. The car that mowed her over had been going forty in a thirty zone and the driver had been on a phone. Her parents were frantic to press charges, couldn't believe that it was okay to talk on those new gadgets and drive but… it wasn’t her top priority at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll try to get the physical therapy started as soon as possible. It got banged up pretty badly,” her doctor continued. She had woken to find it in traction, and it remained there other than when the orthopedic surgeon who had worked on it came in to examine it like now. He had told her she was lucky, with physical therapy she’d regain most-- if not all-- of her use of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was lucky to be alive at all. Lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your arm?” The doctor kept checking boxes and making notes on his clipboard. He was young, very young, not much older than herself. Her 23 year old self that is. She had forgotten you could be a doctor in your twenties. He had to have been at least 28 or 29 though to be unattended. Maybe he just had a young face. That being said, she had mentally started calling him Dougie Howser and was trying very hard not to say it out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same,” she responded. “Did I land on it? Is that what-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe so,” he said in a clipped tone. He wasn’t the best with the bedside manner. Not mean, but not particularly reassuring or chatty. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, what's the overall pain?” She thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight. Mostly my head.” He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re still waiting on the MRI. You were only out for two days so we’re hoping there wasn’t much brain damage from the coma,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>well, that’s a great way to drop that one,</span>
  </em>
  <span> “but it was a bad head trauma. Any weird experiences? Any strange sensations? Phantom smells?” She blinked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had an incredibly vivid hallucination I time traveled back to senior year of high school. I managed to save the lives of three kids I disliked, as well as my boyfriend-- my very much alive boyfriend-- who I was now ten times more in love with having spent more time with him and seen what he was like with the proper therapeutic treatment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She just shook her head. “Nothing yet.” He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what we can do about the pain.” She nodded her thanks and Dougie walked out briskly. The young nurse came in behind him. She was nice, about 30, with long dark brown hair she kept in a neat bun and black Converse sneakers as opposed to the older nurses with their Keds. She had a nice smile and seemed genuinely to care about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is his name Julie? I can’t seem to remember. And if I’m not careful I’m going to call him Dr. Howser.” She burst into laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of the nurses call him that too. I think he’s 29, but he just looks so young! Girl, if you do, blame the head injury. May as well use it as an excuse for as long as possible.” They laughed as she helped adjust her to sit up right and put the tray of food on her little table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you two stop giggling? Some of us would like our lunch over here.” They both rolled their eyes. Veronica motioned for her to go give her roommate in the recovery room her food first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there Mrs. Sandusky,” Julie called out in a pleasant and professional tone even though she was fed up with her too. She left her to attend to the cranky woman who was recovering from her hip replacement. From the way she was acting you’d think it was her who was hit by the car. Veronica wasn’t too keen on the hospital cuisine anyway. A soggy turkey sandwich in a bag, a cup of yogurt, an apple, Jell-O, and a Carnation milk carton straight from the recesses of her high school cafeteria were about to stare back at her from a brown tray completely unappetizing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sun was shining in the crisp fall air, Veronica smiled as JD wrapped his arms around her from behind to warm her up, pulling her body against his, and delicately pressed his lips against her ear. “Come on, let’s get a slushie,” he whispered, the words echoing through her head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened her eyes quickly, her heart beating in her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad mistake. Don’t close your eyes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn’t even cry about it anymore. How do you cry about a dream?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it felt so real,” she had told her mother when she had recovered her speech enough to tell her where she had been. Two days had passed since the accident. It had felt like months in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh honey,” she said, as she gently smoothed her hair back. “You had a bad accident and your brain needs to recover. People dream of all sorts of strange things when they’re in a coma.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Dr. Howser-- she really needed to get his real name-- replied as he attended to Mrs. Sandusky. “Most people don’t report any dreams during comas. REM isn’t quite achieved and therefore dreaming doesn’t occur.” Her mother glared at him. He really needed to work on his bedside manner. Discreetly she closed the privacy curtain around the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had told her a lot of what happened in her mind. Well, the PG version without the swearing and sex at least. And without admitting to the truth of what happened the first-- the only?-- time around. It had been heavily edited, but she got the gist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never told me that that boy who-” she swallowed, the whole incident had just been so tragic in her memory, “that JD was your boyfriend,” she responded sympathetically. “When he came to the house worried about you… I should have realized it was more than just an acquaintance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d broken up with him at that point,” she admitted. “He’d… he’d gotten bad... scary.” Her mother nodded and hushed her. She knew what happened next. Well, the version she had told the authorities: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JD had gone off the deep end and told everyone she had committed suicide. He had stolen a bomb from his dad’s work stuff and strapped it to his chest. She had gone after him and he detonated it in the football field in front of her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother looked at her with such empathy it nearly broke her heart. Her parents both looked so weary. They had driven up as soon as they were notified she was put in the ambulance and she doubted they had slept much since they arrived, having tried to sleep in the uncomfortable chairs of the recovery room hoping she’d wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew it wasn’t her fault but… she hated seeing them like this. She needed to shut up about this, this… delusion of hers but… It had been too detailed and too vivid to have been a dream or fantasy or-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped back to the present. “Okay Veronica,” Julie told her. “The kitchen staff really outdid themselves this week,” she dramatically paused before opening up the tray in front of her. “I didn’t think it was possible to overcook Jell-O but… well, I admire their ability to find a way.” Veronica blanched at the bland hospital food and tried to resign herself to eat it just as her dad walked in carrying a take out bag from the diner across the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey peanut, looks like I’m just in time with this.” Veronica relaxed, grateful at the cheeseburger, fries, and Diet Coke he carried in. Before she even asked he showed her the massive amount of ketchup packets he’d grabbed for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell mom but I think I love you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll deny it to the day I die,” he told her as he opened the bag to help her consume it. She had broken her dominant arm and eating with one hand was awkward and she felt like a silly child having her dad help her eat but… thems the breaks sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saved in time,” Julie said taking the uneaten tray back. “I’ll let you two at it.” Her dad smiled and thanked her as she left. He had told Veronica that she had been more than kind when they had arrived and saw her in the state she was in and they had been very grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” Veronica asked after she ate. “Do you think you could call Martha Dunstock for me? See if she could come up and visit? Or even just call? I just- I would love to talk to her.” Her or Heather MacNamera. She needed to talk to one of her old friends about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that,” he said nervously, picking at some of her leftover fries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I know we haven’t talked in awhile but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, um. I don’t want to worry you but-” He stopped talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martha’s back at home with her mother and brothers. Physically, she’s okay but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” Veronica said, concerned. “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her mother confided in your mother and I that she hadn’t been doing too well the last year or so. She still hasn’t finished college.” Veronica blinked. She didn’t know. The last time she had even seen or spoken to Martha was two Christmases ago when they met to get a drink at a local bar and do a little catch up. It had been the first time she had seen her not using the scooter to get around and they talked of nothing important but she had seemed fine. They had been excited to be 21 and able to drink in the local bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She told us she mostly just sits in her room reading or watching TV.” Her dad sighed. “I don’t want to worry you. Maybe once you get home and your mobile you can try and talk to her but right now… I don’t think it’s a good time. You need to focus on getting better and I know you peanut. You’d end up focusing on helping her.” Veronica nodded, her heart longed for her friend to talk to but realized her friend might be hurting bad too. Her dad was right, she wasn’t in any shape to help anyone but herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Heather MacNamera? Do you know if-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t remember?” He nodded, feeling bad. “Brain injury. I have to keep reminding myself. Veronica, her parents sold their business and house after the divorce. You told us you haven’t heard from her since graduation. You didn’t even know where she had moved to.” Right, Veronica remembered correctly now. She nodded at her dad and looked down at the few leftover french fries and the small carton of coleslaw the cheeseburger had come with. She tried to open it with one hand in frustration. Her dad quickly came and did it for her and dumped the contents on the paper bag for her to eat more easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she told him as she carefully nibbled at the slaw. It was pretty flavorless, but she liked the texture and something to do other than talk. It took her a minute to realize that other than Martha and Heather M there was no one else to ask for. She hadn’t really made any friends in school or outside of it since graduating. Some acquaintances, but no one she felt she could confide all of this confusing stuff in. Her life had been pretty much school and work focused since high school. She hadn’t wanted to ever think too hard about senior year and doing that was a great way to keep her mind off it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of grief washed over her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish he was-</span>
  </em>
  <span> She shook her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s been dead for five years and the dream was a dream.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s see what’s on the TV.” He flipped the remote on and started flipping through the broadcast stations before landing on a rerun of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Simpsons</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She tried to focus on that instead of her loneliness at the lack of friends and the small pain in her head and leg as the morning’s round of painkillers started to wear off a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there. Who’s my favorite intern?” Dr. Beckett said, coming in with some flowers and a card about thirty minutes later. Her dad got up and shook his hand, thanking him for stopping by. “These are from everyone at the office,” he said sincerely. “Betty was the one who called the ambulance. She saw the whole thing from the window as you- well, you’re okay, that’s what counts.” Her dad took them and put them on the side table. If he was surprised by the lack of “get well soon” cards, he didn’t mention it. Her dad offered him the seat. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need some coffee. Can I get you some?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.” He sat down on the chair next to the bed as her dad exited the room. Veronica offered a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all could have just sent those by delivery. Mom and dad asked you to talk to me. They think I’m nuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! You’ve had enough psych classes to know we don’t like to use that word.” He smiled. “Bonkers, quackers, lost their marbles… but never nuts.” Against her better judgement she smiled. “Come on, your parents are worried because they care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They tell you about the dream? What I saw when I was asleep?” He sighed and looked at her. The last time she had seen him in the past-- no, the dream she corrected herself-- he had had a beard. He was clean shaven now, and with some more white hairs at his temples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They may have mentioned you were upset by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It felt so real,” she said, her voice slightly quivering. She was trying hard not to cry. She rubbed her eyes with her uninjured hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mind is an amazing piece of technology Veronica. We don’t even remotely understand most of it and when it’s injured… It’s like a TV on the fritz.” He tapped his head. “We just got to get the antennas back in the right position to get the picture back in clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I was there. It happened. I was seventeen years old again and- and he didn’t- no one died. I had the better version of him, the one that was getting better. The one that-” He cut her off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, woah. Okay, slow down. Slow down. Your mother told me that there were some kids you went to high school with that unfortunately took their lives and that upsets you still and you had a very strange dream when you were out, but who’s ‘he?’” Dr. Beckett asked curiously. She looked away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name was Jason Dean. JD. We were… together. Briefly before he- before he died.” She realized Dr. Beckett was doing that thing she admired and tried to emulate herself in her own desires to give counsel. He leaned in and listened, his face clearly available.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. He died, but in this dream he-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I managed to stop the chain of events that led to that unfortunate day.” She was dancing around her words, still keenly aware to keep many of the secrets of Westerberg to herself. He nodded at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it wrong to say that perhaps your brain gave you that reality because it desperately wanted it? That you wished you’d gotten him the help he needed before it was too late?” She didn’t respond. “Veronica, you may always regret that you didn’t do more to help him. I understand. I’ve lost patients and loved ones too, ones I tried to walk away from dark places only- we can’t save everyone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sent him to see you in the dream. I got you to take him on as a patient. I think he liked you and you were helping him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m flattered you thought I was the best one to treat him. But see? That’s how you can tell it’s a dream. I don’t take teenage patients.” She was trying to come to terms with the reality of it. It had been a dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was pushy,” she countered. “Very pushy with the old secretary to get you to do it. Oh gosh, she’s not with you anymore, is she? Um, Janine. Janine Valentine. Did I make her up? Fill in her name from imagination?” He looked at her confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janine? Did someone in the office mention her to you? There wouldn’t have been any paperwork that- Yes, you saw her name somewhere and the back of your mind-” He was trying to rationalize it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Veronica asked, feeling a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her injuries. “She worked for you? For real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook her head, trying not to let her see he was spooked. “Janine had an aneurysm, about two years ago. She passed away very suddenly. What did she- do you remember what she looked like in this dream?” He asked, curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica thought. “Um, black hair, very curly- probably permed. Big, like she was teasing it every five minutes. Smelled like Aqua-Net and Chanel Number Five. Very nice, but- yuck could you smell it from down the hall. JD made jokes that-” Dr. Beckett had gone ghost white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone told you all that,” he replied as he tried to assure her as well as himself. “Someone told you and in the recesses of your mind-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She had a picture on her desk of a little girl. Sasha.” Veronica looked at him for confirmation. “Sasha. She was three. She was having the darndest time getting her to potty train. I learned way too much about potty training techniques. She’d show me pictures when I was waiting for him inside. Prettiest little thing with a mess of-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same black hair,” they both said in unison. His expression was impossible to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica,” he tried to regain his composure. “I believe what you experienced felt real. I believe the mind-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right, aren’t I?” She asked, spooking herself. “I couldn’t know details about a secretary I never met that died two years ago. Even if I just over heard her name or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, you want this to be real because you want to change the past. I’ll admit, it is very hard to know how you might know about all those things but- there is no such thing as fate. Or time. And the mind truly can conjure up many images that-” Her father walked back in with his coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Are you still talking? I can go rummage around the news stand for some magazines or something.” The interruption gave the doctor a moment to think. He was an incredibly rational man who was not given to any flights of supernatural fancy. Time travel, fate, all of it… it was not real.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he recalled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, dad. Just a few more minutes, okay?” Dr. Beckett looked at her trying to figure out what to say. Her father walked out again. “I liked you with the beard. You should grow it back out.” He felt all the hairs on his arm stand up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was that expression</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like someone had walked over my grave.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had a beard since 1990. I shaved it when I decided to work with a deaf patient. He had a hard time following my lips with it.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>She could have seen an old picture too. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Let’s play this out Veronica. Let’s say it’s true. Let’s say somehow you went back and got to change things. You got to save this friend of yours and you two were happy. Why did you wake up back here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea.” She shrugged the best she could with a banged up arm. “Not an expert in time or the universe. I’m Veronica Sawyer, not Doctor Who.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ‘The Doctor,’” he corrected her. “Doctor Who is the name of the show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “He’s the guy with the scarf on PBS right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “Very good.” He thought long and hard. “We’ll keep going on with this. What happened right before you woke up? Where were you in this version of events?” She told him about JD, his father, getting him out of the house... </span>
  <span>The gun. She told him about him pointing the gun as his father accosted her. He nodded, thinking very carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was seeing me as a therapist?” She nodded. “Well, I’ll tell you this: I have a saying I tell many patients dealing with anger. ‘It’s okay to hate, it's just not okay to let it fester or to take any drastic action against the person who you hate.’ I say it often and hope it sinks in.” He got up as he realized her father was at the door trying not to eavesdrop. He lowered his voice just in case. “If he was a patient of mine and I was helping him, that should be ringing through his head at that moment.” He grabbed his coat and slipped it on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Dr. Beckett,” she told him, her emotions a mix she couldn’t quite nail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam,” he corrected. “We’re colleagues after all. That job is always there for you. Hey, what did I tell you the first day you were on the job?” She smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“'No one is damaged beyond repair.'” He clicked his tongue and pointed at her. He turned as he was about to walk out the door. “One other thing Veronica.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you make it back somehow. If this is in any way, shape, or form real-” He laughed at the absurdity of it. “Tell me to put all my money on the ‘49ers in January and not the Broncos?” She laughed heartily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. What other use does time travel have other than gambling on sporting events?” They laughed and she waved with her good arm as she saw him talk to her father once more and head out. Her dad came back in and they watched a couple more shows waiting for her next check in with Dougie about her physical therapy. She felt a little lighter, but still utterly confused at what to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nights at a hospital are always the hardest. At her insistence she told her parents not to spend another horrible night in the chairs and told them to come back in the morning. She hated them giving so much of their time and comfort to make sure she was okay, but her protests-- of course-- fell on deaf ears. They at least acquiesced to going home at night now that she was awake.</span>
</p><p>"Hey Veronica," Julie said, as she poked into the room right as she was about to leave for the night. "I'm heading out for the night."</p><p>"Oh, have a great night then! See you tomorrow?"</p><p>"Maybe," she said with a smile. "You have some great dreams. Heard you were good at those." She laughed and was about to head out, then turned back. "Oh, and Veronica Sawyer? I ever tell you what a far out name that is?" Veronica snorted. She was all of thirty and it felt really weird to hear her say, 'far out' like it was 1971 or something.  </p><p>"Thanks, I guess. See you!" She walked out, turning the switches off. Veronica shook her head, unsure what to make of that. She was nice if a little... different.</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, the lights were at half dim in the hallway and she could hear the clopping of nurses and orderlies pass through doing their nightly work. She tried to get comfortable to sleep but it was hard with her injuries, all the usual annoying traits of hospitals, and not being in her own bed. She closed her eyes for a long time before opening them again. She almost audibly gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason Dean was leaning against her hospital room door casually with his arms crossed. He looked exactly as he did the last time she saw him: long trench coat, black pants, black shirt, flannel all coupled with his messy brown hair, penetrating eyes, and charming crooked smile. Seventeen years old. After all, she'd never know what he'd look like any older.</span>
  <span>“You’re dead,” she whispered. He turned and walked down the hall. She got up and followed him. “JD!” She called after him, desperate. There were no nurses or orderlies. It was just the two of them. Every time she got to the end of a hallway she could see his trench coat flapping behind him and she followed it, terrified he'd disappear on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally he walked outside and she saw him standing near a bench right outside her hospital room window. “JD, please stop walking away from me!” She begged of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait. Walked. She had walked to follow him on both uninjured legs. She also realized her arm was okay. She felt her body for her major injuries, scrapes, and bruises. They weren’t- “Zuzu’s petals aren’t there,” he said, referring to George Bailey’s confusion in </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a Wonderful Life</span>
  </em>
  <span> upon finding out he’d traveled to a place he’d never been born. He turned to her and finally spoke directly to her. “We’re not on the same plane where your body got banged up by some asshole driving too fast on a car phone.” He sat and gestured for her to join him. “That really shouldn’t be legal.” Confused, but glad to see him, she did. She turned around and saw inside the window: she was asleep in her hospital bed, the lights off for night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a dream,” she responded sadly. He shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine or yours?” He asked back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, can we please not do any of that annoying ambiguous dream shit?” He laughed. “Dream? Not dream? Dead? Not dead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you Veronica Sawyer.” She smiled at him. “I don’t know a lot of how any of this works babe, I’m sorry. That’s the truth. I’m mostly just glad I’m not still in that 7/11 reading the same Sports Illustrated issue with Joe Montana on the cover.” He looked down. “You’re not dead. I should know, I am. And life is nothing but a dream of a dream anyway, right?” She looked at him with murder in her eyes. “Okay, It’s kind of a dream. But, like, we’re not about to do jumping jacks as your high school gym teacher tries to make you also take a test naked.” He winked at her and smiled. “Well, wouldn’t mind the naked part.” She laughed. How did he do that? Even a dead dream Jason Dean could charm her into laughing. “Look, the last time we met like this you were given a chance to go back, to change things. To ‘make right what once went wrong’ so to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand that though. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Veronica Sawyer, you really did have a fucked up life.” She reached her hand out and tried to touch him, only to have it go through him. Now she was pissed. She couldn’t even touch him on this dream or plane or whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you gave me a taste!” She replied tersely, her temper rising. “You gave me a peek at what the world was like with my friends in a better mental state! With my boyfriend alive and well, and getting his mental sanity! And me! Me with a reasonably happy outlook on the future. I was getting back on track to live the more exciting ‘get out of Sherwood’ life I wanted. My god, you were three months shy of eighteen.” She banged her hands against each other, exasperated. “We were getting your things out of your dad’s house. We-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was standing in my living room pointing a gun at my father with you in the crossfire,” he said, harshly. “That was better? What do you think was going to happen? Veronica, maybe it was always my destiny to die at seventeen. Maybe I was always meant to kill myself.” He looked away from her, trying to not let her see him shed a tear.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, fuck that!” She said, standing up to yell at him. He looked at her startled. “Meant to be? That’s bullshit and you know it. The future is not set! There is no fate but what we make for ourselves!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the line from the Terminator!” He countered standing up to talk back to her. “It’s ‘the future is not set’ and that’s it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was in Terminator 2! It’s a continuity error!” He laughed and instantly the tension was cut and sat back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never saw it. Dead in ‘89, remember?” She sat back down next to him, completely perplexed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good. On par with the original. Sarah gets ripped and turns into a badass and saves the future. She fires a shotgun with one arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Wow. Sounds cool.” She wished they were twenty one year olds in the movie theater eating popcorn watching it, too engrossed to make out during it instead of here and now. He looked away from her penetrating gaze and got back on topic. “What if I fired the gun? What if I missed him and hit you? What if I had shot you by accident? I’ll tell you this: if I did that I’d eat lead five seconds later.” She shivered at the thought. She wondered what the police would make of that tableau: Bud Dean-- alive, well, and hungover-- with his son and his girlfriend’s corpses to wake up to. Would he get charged? Would he fake a suicide note for them and run away? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if? What if? What if?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if you hit your dad and dropped the gun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes. A fine fate that one is: I kill him. I kill my dad point blank with a gun. I get arrested for murder. Patricide? At seventeen? I’m tried as an adult Veronica. God! Some local small town DA tries to go for murder one? Ohio’s got the death penalty. For killing my dad? Oh, the press and jury would crucify me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that. I’d testify-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, your parents would love it if you took the stand for that! What does it matter? Society nods its head at any horror the American teenager can think upon itself and punishes them for it accordingly. Look, generously? Murder two? That’s fifteen years. Minimum. I was only on the beginning of the road to mental health Veronica. That’s not likely to help it.” He paused and looked at her. “And I’d never see you again. I'd be alone, isolated, angry, and in prison? I’d definitely figure out how to take my own life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not fair!” She stamped her foot like a preschooler having a temper tantrum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s fair Veronica. None of this fair.” He stared at her intently. “I want to touch you so badly,” he whispered, his voice breaking. They tried to touch their fingers together only for them to glide through thin air, like they didn’t exist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why take me there at all?” She turned to him. Tears were in her eyes and his fingers longed to wipe them away and pull her close to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tried babe, you really tried. We got a few more weeks together and they meant the world to me. Only you could do that.” She stared off in the distance where the sun was rising. “I probably was damaged beyond repair.” The pre-dawn hues of orange and blue lifted over the hospital courtyard. She turned to the window and peered in to see her banged up body still asleep. She repeated back what she said to Dr. Beckett-- Sam she corrected herself-- earlier almost automatically. “No one is damaged beyond repair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back to him and felt bold excitement rush through her. “What if none of those things happened?” She asked him. He looked at her with slanted eyes, unsure what she meant. “What if you put the gun down and don’t kill anyone? What if we find a third choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the chances of that happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. I’ll always take that bet. Jason Dean, I love you and I’ll always take that chance for you. Wouldn't you do the same for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! But- Is that the risk you want to take?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes. I want to do it for real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There won’t be any take backsies. You’re gambling not just with my life right now darling, but with yours too. Stay here and you’ll live. Guaranteed you’ll live to be 90 years old and die quietly in your own bed. You’ll go back to an okay life and you’ll get over me, even forget me.” She laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d never forget you. That’s the point you idiot. I’d never forget how good it was. How good it could be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not what I want! I want you to live! How many times can I tell you?! I would trade my life any day for yours!"</span>
</p><p>"And I told you that I never asked you to! Babe, I love you, but I don't really care what you want right now. You said it was my choice, right?" He ran his hands through his hair, knowing she was right. "And it's not just about us! Martha, Heather Mac... hell even those idiots Heather, Kurt, and Ram. I'm making my choice."</p><p>
  <span>She looked into the hospital room window. It was morning now and she saw her mother walk in to freshen the room up. She took her flowers and changed the water in the vase. There were also her folks to consider. If she agreed to this what would their lives be like? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably better,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she realized. It always upset them to see her shrivel inside herself after senior year. It upset her to see them so worried about her physical and mental state now. </span>
  <span>She smiled as her mother fixed the blanket on her sleeping form. She couldn’t wait to see her again in the past. She turned back at JD and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I trust you. I trust that you will do the right thing. Just- </span>
  <span>Promise me this isn’t some hallucination? That I’m not actually dying right now and all this is some sort of dream before I do? This really better not be a Jacob’s Ladder situation.” He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never saw that one either. Died in ‘89, remember? But I get your point. This is real. This is a choice.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and eyed her up and down. <em>Veronica Sawyer never did what he expected her to do.</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I choose.” She smiled at him and with barely a thought, she reached out and took his head in her hands, only to find it warm and real to both their amazement. She pressed her lips to his and they both leaned into the kiss with all their might, flinging their arms around each other and holding on for dear life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment she was overrun with a familiar white light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked. It was as if she had never left 1989. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>She heard the click of a gun.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Get the fuck off her!” JD said in a tone that honestly scared the shit out of her. She saw him pointing one of his dad’s guns at him. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay! Whew! How was that? I swear I never intended to make so many Terminator 1 references in the first half of the story, and now make Terminator 2 ones in the second half but it... felt right? Veronica following JD down the hall was kind of inspired by a deleted scene with Michael Biehn from Terminator 2 which you can view here: https://bit.ly/3jSq0eS</p><p>Update: I posted a ones-hot series that includes with an extra scene of what JD in the 7/11 was up to during all this if you'd like to check it out.</p><p>Kudos and comments as always are welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Life of Jason Dean in Ten Boxes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which all things come to a head and a new road opens up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys. Thanks for your patience, I wish I could deliver these updates faster but this was a tricky chapter and I re-wrote it a couple of times to make sure everything felt earned. I hope it does. I'm also going through some trials in these trying times so I'd like to thank you all for your patience and understanding.</p><p>One last note, normally I don't go back and change anything from previous chapters (with the exception of fixing minor typos and grammar errors I spot when I glance back over them to make sure my continuity is up to snuff) but on much rumination I felt like Bud Dean's line at the end of chapter 17 was too crude and didn't fit with where I think he is mentally. I've changed it and included the new line in the beginning of this chapter so you don't have to go back and re-read if you're reading as it updates. This note will make not sense to any future readers.</p><p>Edit to add: A few people requested the changed line just for reference. Instead of him saying, "God, you even smell just like she did." He said: "“When you were on top of him and his fingers in you, you moaned just like she did. Would you moan like that for me?” I now find this to be very out of character/ moment and decided to change it. I just put this note up for reference purposes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Veronica blinked, slightly disoriented. She was back and it had worked. As the white light faded she realized she was only moments before she had left-- woken up? crossed over? did it matter?-- and she swallowed, hard. It was the moment of decision and as she felt herself back in her seventeen year old body and the emotions of the moment hitting her as strong as they had when she had left. </p><p>Most paramount though was that JD was about to walk in and point that gun at Bud Dean as he still clutched her arm like they were in some kind of Mexican standoff. The thing was, Veronica knew there was a way to end the situation and she was determined that JD would make the right choice. She just knew that both of them would walk away from this terrible situation unharmed. That determination though did nothing to allay the very real fear that coursed through her body in the heat of the moment.</p><p>“Veronica…” Bud Dean’s eyes lingered down her body, tensing her up. Shock and fear were keeping her still. “God, you even smell just like she did.” Her eyes widened in shock and she heard the click of a gun.</p><p>“Get the fuck off of her,” JD said in a tone that was deadly and serious. Bud Dean blinked at his son and the loaded weapon pointed at him and just laughed. “Well, look who came back.” He eyed him carefully. “What are you going to do, shoot me?” </p><p>“If you hurt her and don't let go of her I will.” Veronica stared at JD’s face and quaked at the look on it, remembering the way he looked when he shot two jocks in the graveyard a million years and a different timeline ago. “Now," he said, unwavering, "get off of her.” Veronica jerked violently as he forced her forward. </p><p>“Think you can shoot me and not her?” JD didn’t move or blink.</p><p>“You always said I was a great shot.” The major difference between this life and the last was that instead of the gun pointed at the high school bullies that called his girlfriend a whore and him a pussy he had it pointed at the head of the man his anger and hatred had all originated from: his dad.</p><p>But this was not the boy she used to know. This JD had never given Heather Chandler a wake-up cup of Drain-O. He hadn’t pre-meditated the murder of two jocks. This JD had agreed to her  wishes that he talk to someone. This JD sat with her on the hood of his car in the 7/11 parking lot with slushies teasing and laughing with her as he tried to steal sips from her drink in between stealing kisses. </p><p><em> This JD was better than the old JD </em> , Veronica thought determined.  <em> And god dammit-- This JD was going to live to see his eighteenth birthday. </em></p><p>“JD,” she said, her lips quivering, but determined to get through to him. “Put the gun away.” He wasn’t listening though, and his eyes were firmly set on his target. His father may have always been the correct target of all of his anger and rage but it didn’t matter: he couldn’t pull that trigger. As soon as he did it would be over, no matter who got hurt. JD's life could not be defined by a couple of gunshots. “Please,” she pleaded with him.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s right,” Bud said, as if it were just him and his son in the room. “I know, you’re a big man now,” Big Bud Dean taunted his son, as if daring him to pull the trigger and put him out of his misery. Veronica struggled to understand the power play that was at work in the complex father and son situation. <em> Did he want JD to shoot him? </em>  “Then just do it already.” He finally let go of Veronica with enough force to make her stumble and trip. Tentatively, she got to her feet and scrambled to stand behind JD. Even with her out of harms way and behind him, JD still hadn’t lowered the weapon, his eyes laser focused on his father. JD’s rage was at full steam and she started to have flashbacks of his itchy trigger finger. </p><p>It was at that millisecond though it all suddenly clicked in her brain: JD calmly pouring a cup of Drain-O for Heather Chandler, JD shooting Kurt and Ram, and even his desire to blow up the school. All of that was a manifestation of what he really wanted to do: kill his dad. After all, he was the real bully in his life, the one he saw in the eyes of every nasty Heather and abusive jock in the world. They were the ones that berated others until they whittled them down to nothing-- Just like how his dad had whittled his mother down, and tried to do the same to him. It was always just about his dad. How did she never put two and two together? <em>Weren't you the big genius Veronica Sawyer?</em></p><p>JD approached the man, gun still pointed, and stared at him, debating. He may no longer be accosting Veronica, but that didn’t mean he wanted to lower the gun. She breathed in and out and made a decision to try and get through to him. Tentatively, Veronica reached her fingers out and touched his shoulder, frightened by the familiar look in his eyes. Overwhelmed, she felt the tears form in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. “JD, please. Put the gun down.” The two men stared at each other, unable to break their trance. “Please. He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Leave him to pass out. I’m fine, okay? I’m fine.” Somewhere in the fog of his mind he heard her voice and felt her touch, somewhere deep inside of him past the cloud of rage. </p><p>Slowly Jason Dean turned his head and looked at her. <em>Veronica. I came into the house to protect Veronica. </em>Carefully, he searched her face-- her kind face-- and saw the tears spilling down. Somewhere in his mind the trance was breaking and the fog parted. <em>Veronica was crying</em>, he realized. <em>Who was making Veronica cry?</em> <em>I would do anything to make sure Veronica Sawyer never cried. </em></p><p>He looked back and forth between her and his father. In the recesses of his mind another thought pierced through the rage and he remembered what Dr. Beckett had said to him:</p><p>
  <em> “It’s okay to hate someone. It’s not okay to hurt them because you hate them.” </em>
</p><p>It only took a moment but that was it. It was enough to snap him out of whatever trance he had been in. He clicked the safety back on and his arm dropped and so did the gun. As it hit the ground with a loud thunk the alcohol swimming in Bud Dean’s blood stream finally claimed him and he stumbled backwards, landing on the ground, his back against the wall. In the heat of the moment JD grabbed Veronica and put his arms around her, squeezing her to him tightly.<em> She was fine. She was fine </em>. He clung to her for dear life.</p><p>Veronica blinked, feeling his arms around her and seeing Bud Dean moaning barely awake on the ground and the gun far away from both of them. <em> He didn’t do it. He didn’t pull the trigger. </em> Relief and joy flooded through her. <em> He didn’t do it. He chose the right path. </em>A wave of energy washed over both of them as she felt the impetus of change course through her body and his. When the shock of it all wore off Veronica put her arms around him and held him. “I’m all right, I promise. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered in his ear.</p><p>JD’s mind could barely comprehend the last minute-- the longest minute-- of his young life. <em> What the fuck did I almost do? </em></p><p>For the first time in her entire relationship with him-- in any timeline-- he finally let go of every emotion he had and dropped his head onto her shoulder and openly wept, clinging to her for dear life, leaving his soul completely bare to her. He didn’t hide behind sarcasm, masculine bravado, or his charm. Nor did he hide behind the coat and the boots and the idea of being a badass. The night before he had come to her defeated and tired, but right now? This was him emotionally wrecked and weeping big fat tears that racked through his whole body. He had done it. He had finally opened himself up to her and let her in past every wall he had ever built to protect himself. He welcomed her gladly, ready for her to make camp inside and stay for a while. She was relieved and stunned at the same time. </p><p><em> I knew it. I knew you weren’t that boy anymore. </em>She just held him and let him weep for as long as he needed to. Her fingers were buried in his hair, and she held him as she gently whispered, “it’s okay. I’m okay and you didn’t do anything wrong.” She wondered when the last time he had ever wept like this in front of someone. He had told her when she met him that he was frozen inside, now it was like the iceberg had finally melted and the flood gates had opened. “I’m here, I’m fine,” she repeated to him.</p><p>She had fallen in love with him a long time ago, but she didn’t realize that this was the moment she had longed for the most. It was the moment when Jason Dean bared his real soul to her and truly let her in. A minute or two later, he pulled away and started to pull himself together. Veronica reached out and cupped his face between her hands. She pulled it towards hers and kissed him, gently. Carefully she held his face and wiped his own tears away, her thumbs gently caressing his face. It wasn’t lost on her that in a different life he had held her as she cried and wiped away her tears, but the two situations couldn’t have been more different otherwise. “It’s over, okay?” He nodded. “You didn’t do anything you’d regret.” He touched his forehead to hers and breathed in deep. </p><p>“I don’t know where I went.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. You’re back.”</p><p>“I-I could have-” She put her finger over his lips.</p><p>“You didn’t. JD- you didn’t do anything you have to regret, okay?” He nodded, trying to snap himself out of it all. “Hey, we can discuss it later, okay? Let’s just get your stuff and get out of here, okay?” He nodded silently, wiping his face. </p><p>He looked at Veronica’s face. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had ever cried like that in front of someone. <em> Strength, </em> he realized, <em> it doesn’t feel like a weakness to let it all go in front of her. It was actually a strength. She was his strength </em>. “Hey,” she said, trying to turn the mood around. “We’ll get slushies and drink them in the parking lot after we’re done. Okay?” He laughed despite the gravity of the situation they were just in. He nodded bleakly.</p><p>“That sounds like a good plan.”</p><p>“Why’d you go?” They heard the slump on the ground moan over and over. They both jumped, having nearly forgotten all about his father barely conscious on the ground. Slowly they both walked up to his extremely intoxicated form and strained to help get him on his feet, his body wavering and his head flopped forward. He was practically dead weight but JD seemed more practiced at the act of dragging his father to bed in this state than she was. They dragged his body to the couch and left him there to slowly pass out as they completed the task they had come there to do in the first place.</p><p>As Veronica turned to head up to his room something caught JD's eye and he looked carefully on the coffee table where his dad had been earlier in the evening. On top of it were pictures of his mom alone, much younger ones of her from before she had him. Ones where he didn’t even recognize her. There was also one of himself and his mother, and a few of the three of them together in front of their house in Texas. He was stunned, he thought he had managed to keep most of them from being thrown out with the rest of her things but he was shocked to see his dad had a stockpile of his own. He didn’t dwell on it much as he spotted something he had never had any idea he had kept: her pearls. The lovely ones she had loved the most and wore all the time. He was surprised. He had thought she'd been wearing them that day-</p><p>It was a split second decision. He grabbed them and slipped them into their box before sliding them into his coat pocket. Somehow he knew she would want him to have them, not his father. He debated taking the pictures too, but his hand wavered. He had his own memories of her and his family, perhaps it was a step too cruel to take his father's memories of his other life-- with him and his mother-- away from him.</p><p>He went to join Veronica who had started putting some books lying around into one of his already waiting boxes. He didn’t own a lot of stuff. After so many moves, he knew how to pack up in a hurry and just take what you needed. Stuff was kind of just that-- stuff to him. Sometime around move five he realized hanging on to too much stuff just meant the more you had to carry each time. Clothes, books, tapes, some records… and a box of some personal things. He made sure to grab the few photos he and Veronica had taken together that were still sitting by his bed. It wasn’t a lot in the end-- it was ten boxes total-- but it was his life. </p><p>Luckily his trunk and back seat could hold it all and still be able to see out the back window. “Hey, go to your dad’s office and make sure you grab any of your personal papers, I’ll try and arrange the boxes better so we can still drive.” He agreed and took full advantage of his dad’s passed out state to root through his paperwork and files for anything with his name on it. He wanted to be thorough-- he knew he’d never have the chance again. He found his personal documents-- birth certificate, social security card, and passport-- in one of his dad’s filing boxes as well as the ownership papers of his car. <em> Fuck him. It’s mine, </em>he thought adding it to the take pile. Rummaging some more he managed to find some savings bonds with his name on them that had not matured yet which he pocketed awaiting his 20th birthday. As he rummaged some more Veronica stood in the office door watching him. </p><p>“I think we’re good to go. Did you find your paperwork?” She asked as he pulled out a strange file with his name on it. He opened the file and started to stare at the financial paperwork in it, unsure what it meant. There was also a plain white envelope in it with his name on it.</p><p>“Um, sorry,” he said, realizing he didn't answer her as he stared at it, unsure what it meant. The envelope though simply said "For Jason" and was written in a familiar small neat handwriting: his mother's. “Yeah, got it, some saving bonds with my name on them too.” He continued to stare at the envelope. “Some strange papers with my name on them too.” Quickly he tucked the envelope away, unsure what it could be.</p><p>“Take them too. If they have your name on them they’re yours, aren’t they?” He shook his head in agreement and decided to take them and look through all of it later. The file looked like banking and number stuff, maybe he could ask Veronica to ask her dad to figure it out for him. Veronica was about to leave, when she spotted his dad’s wallet on top of one of his boxes. Carefully she opened it. She paused briefly, spotting at the small wallet picture of JD at five or so with his dad in baseball hats and gloves on, all smiles in front of a house. She was taken aback by it, but pushed past it. She flipped through the cash and found about two hundred dollars in mixed bills. She handed the bills to JD. He was surprised. “What are you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Take it. You need it for food and gas.” He stared at the bills, still surprised at how casually Veronica lifted the bills from his dad’s wallet. “Come on, he owes you this much at least. Honestly, I’d forge a blank check from his checkbook for you if I weren’t afraid that was a touch too far.” He still stared at it. “Oh please, like you never lifted cash from his wallet when he was passed out drunk before?” JD shrugged, relenting, and took it. She was right, he’d done it before when he was drunk and his gas tank was low. He had never noticed or said anything probably assuming he'd spent it drunk.</p><p>They walked towards the front of the house and stopped to consider. “Is that everything?” She asked as he looked around the house one last time. It was odd to him. He had only lived in this house in Sherwood for a few months, it wasn’t <em> home </em> per say but still-- it looked like a lot of the other cheap duplex rentals his dad had gotten for them in the last 8 years since he started trudging him from one end of the country to the other. It suddenly hit him: he had done it. He was finally leaving his dad and former life behind like he had been planning for weeks. He turned and looked at Veronica in the doorway. She was his future, and behind him-- his dad-- was his past. He wasn’t going to be living like this anymore. It had taken him until this moment, with his stuff packed up, for him to realize it. </p><p>Veronica looked down and stared at the gun he had left on the floor, remembering about the physical item that had caused all the drama barely an hour ago. Veronica stared at it amazed, it had felt like years ago. She breathed in and out, she had done it. She had believed in him to make the right choice and he had. They were now preparing for a better life, one that was completely unknown to her.</p><p>JD saw what she was looking at and swallowed, a hollow pit growing in his stomach at the realization of what he had almost done. Before they both could ruminate on the events of the afternoon she had a practical concern. “The, um, the gun.” He walked over and stared at it with her. “Is there a way to lock it up or get it out of here? He shouldn’t have access to it if he’s in a state like this. He could hurt someone else, not just himself.”</p><p>He nodded and gingerly picked it up, the object feeling much heavier and foreign to him than when he had been holding it earlier. He emptied the gauge and threw them in his pocket, not knowing where else to put them. “There’s a lock box with a padlock in his office. He’ll get it open eventually,” he told her, remembering all the times he had broken into it to fish his car keys out, “but it won’t be anytime soon.” She nodded. She would have preferred throwing it in some lake or dropping it off at one of those anonymous police station collections but she knew enough to know that a gun was expensive and that JD’s dad could charge them for theft if he was so inclined. Who the hell knew what he’d be so inclined to do when his hangover was over? If he was smart he wouldn’t bother his son about any of this further but a risk was a risk.</p><p>After futzing with it he put them in there. He threw the key out as well. As they were about to leave the house JD looked one last time at the passed out body of his father, Big Bud Dean, lying skewed on the couch they’d left him on a little while ago passed out. They startled when they heard a loud snore emanate from his body. </p><p>JD looked at him. He really looked at him. He was a man who lived to tear things down and destroy them. “Fuck,” JD said under his breath as he felt the familiar urge to take care of his dad tug inside him. He hated him. Hated him more than anything and had just had a huge blow out with the man that ended in fists yesterday. For god sake, mere minutes ago he had pointed a gun at him and thought very seriously about pulling the trigger. He still hadn’t truly unpacked that one, and lord knows if not for Veronica being there he might have. </p><p>So then, why did he still feel the need to take care of him? </p><p>He thought back to the last nine years of his life. All the dinners he had made for him, all the times he made coffee and a greasy breakfast to nurse his hangover waiting for him in the morning. Not just that but he had made sure the rent and electricity were always paid on time and the car didn’t get repossessed. Finally, he thought of his mother’s tears and her death by her own-- and his father's complicit-- hand. What the hell was it about his dad that made him do this? Take care of him? Maybe it was the same reason he had never ran away or tried to track down a relative to take him in. Bud Dean was his dad. There really was no more grand explanation than that maybe.</p><p>He closed his eyes and breathed out. At the end of the day, the why of it all didn’t matter. He’d been doing it all his life. The only difference was this would be the last time. Call him a sentimentalist. The sarcastic side of him started to float back in. <em> At least I’ll have a lot to discuss over the next few weeks with the shrink. </em></p><p>So, for one last time, Jason Dean left a bottle of seltzer water and aspirin on the coffee table next to the couch for his dad to take when he woke up-- god knows when-- dehydrated and with a pounding skull. He put the blanket that was draped over the chair over him and fixed his position so he would be more comfortable on the couch. He checked the fridge and made sure the expired food had been thrown out, and a couple of TV dinners were in the freezer. There was a Tupperware left of Thanksgiving leftovers from a few days ago from when he had gone to eat with Veronica’s family. It still looked all right and he could finish up that.</p><p>Otherwise? No words, kisses, hugs, or regrets. His sentimentality had its limits. Veronica stood at the door. It was probably a trick of his eyes but he felt like the light from behind her highlighted her beautifully, as if looking at her was looking forward to tomorrow. “All set?” She asked. He nodded and looked around. His old life suddenly seemed very foreign to him. He took her hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”</p><p>They didn’t talk as he drove. He had no idea where he was even going to go that night. He had thought of a few places he could safely park around the area where the cops wouldn’t bother him but Veronica balked at even the idea of him sleeping in his car. In general, she was not terribly thrilled with any plan for him to live in his car and just park in random spots. He didn’t mind it particularly though as he figured that anything was preferable to him than living at his dad’s for right now. Still, he would need an indoors to be soon as the Ohio winter was looming ahead of them. </p><p>He tried to shrug it off, he could always shower at school in the gym locker room, eat convenience store food, and the school’s cheap lunch until he figured out what he would do for money even if he and Veronica had grown quite accustomed to sneaking off campus. Regardless of his protestations he knew Veronica would sneak him a meal or two from her parent’s and if they were careful and quiet maybe he could sneak in and sleep with her in her bed a few nights. His body warmed at that thought, he wouldn’t mind that too much at all. In general, yes, tt was cold, but his car could be warm if the heat was on. He did worry about the cash to keep it gassed up. His head hurt as the reality of his situation started to really settle inside of him. <em>Oh right, this is why a lot of kids don't run away from home even if they should. </em>He’d need a job and a room to rent. What about the community college classes he wanted to take? What about-?</p><p>“JD?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. They had gotten their slushies and were sipping them as they sat inside his car. It was becoming dusk now. She had already decided to drag him home with her for dinner so she didn’t have to worry about him being alone and not eating tonight. “Can I ask you a strange question?” He looked at her surprised. </p><p>“Yeah, sure.”</p><p>“What was your mom’s name? You never told me.”</p><p>“Valerie,” he answered, a bit stunned at the question. “Why?” She told him the thing his dad had said to her before he had come in.</p><p>Cold swept through his body. “Jesus, I should have gone in there with you.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I love you Veronica Sawyer. I will never let anybody hurt you, including me.” It was a moment of silence when he spoke. Truth. It was time to tell her everything when he felt it, just like Dr. Beckett had told him, just like Veronica wanted. After what she had witnessed and been through with him today she deserved it and then some. </p><p>He breathed in and breathed out, prepared to tell her what he felt. “Let me explain some things." He paused and resolved to tell her the truth, all of it. "This afternoon, when I saw that he was grabbing you it was like I was a kid, watching him do it to her. My mom I mean.” He turned behind him and rooted through one of the boxes close to him. She saw him pull out a picture and stared at it. “He’d pick at her, make these mean offhand remarks, but mostly push her around. The physical stuff would happen if he’d been drinking. Sometimes he’d come for me too. I learned to hide.” She took his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed it back and stared at her. He reached out and carefully touched the loose lock of hair on her forehead he always enjoyed toying with and watched as it flopped back in place. “Nothing outlandish or melodramatic like some Movie of the Week or After School Special. It was a lot of little things like grabbing my arm and twisting it or pushing her harder than I think he realized. He was mean and had a quick temper and he just didn’t get how much smaller we were then him at the time. I was a kid but even I could see how messed up the whole family was and I was too little to do anything about it. I couldn’t protect myself, let alone her.” She was trying not to cry, and desperately wanted him to keep talking, let her know all of it.</p><p>“You were just a kid JD.”</p><p>“I know. I, um, talk to the doctor about this stuff. He’s been trying to help me realize that.” He bristled, still unused to the idea that it was okay to be seeing a therapist. She wanted to hold him but also wanted him to keep talking. He looked at her hand still entwined with his and then back up at her. “I’m glad I made sure you were safe, I would never regret that. And what happened with him needed to happen on some level I guess. We can’t say me and him weren’t on that trajectory.” She felt something inside her shift drastically-- more so than it had earlier in the afternoon. “I am sorry if I scared you or put you in harm's way today,” he continued. “Look, Veronica, I’ll be eighteen soon, right? I know it feels arbitrary to assign a random age to adulthood but I guess it’s as good as any. What I mean is, I’m telling you right now that I want to be the man that you need me to be, okay? I love you and you know you’re the only person I’ve said that to in a long time. I want to be nothing like him, okay?” It fell through her like water moving upwards, rushing past her fingertips: she had done it. She had gambled on him and she had won. She nodded fiercely before flinging her arms around him and clutching him tightly. Gently she kissed his ear and breathed in his warm scent.</p><p>“I love you too. And you will be all those things. I believe in you, okay?” He laughed in relief in the wake of the monologue of admissions as she parted from him and brushed her tears away. “Thank you for telling me all of that. I know you pretty well JD.” <em> I know this new you. I know him pretty well. </em> “And I promise you: you’re not like him. This afternoon you protected me, you didn’t hurt me. I trust you to always do that, okay?” He nodded, relieved to hear her say that. She looked down at the picture in his hand. “Is that her? Your mom?” He nodded before handing her the picture for closer examination. He hadn’t shown her a picture of his mom before. She looked down at it curiously and her heart momentarily stopped. An image of a nurse with long dark hair flashed before her eyes.</p><p>
  <em> "You have some great dreams. Heard you were good at those." She laughed and was about to head out, then turned back. "Oh, and Veronica Sawyer? I ever tell you what a far out name that is?" </em>
</p><p>“What is it?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She shook her head and decided it was better left unasked and unanswered.</p><p>“Nothing,” she told him, with a smile. “It’s just- you have her eyes.” He took the picture back from her and looked at it one more time before putting it back in the box. She looked at her watch. “It’s almost dinner. Why don’t you come over to my house? Mom said she was making meatloaf tonight, I'm sure there’ll be enough.”</p><p>He laughed trying to change the mood. Today had been heavy and his stomach growled at the idea of real food from her mother. “Your dad will be annoyed. He spent most of Thanksgiving pointedly ignoring me.” She shrugged.</p><p>“Hey, my Grandma liked you.” He chuckled. He had liked her grandmother too. She had the same intelligent and sarcastic twinkle in her eye that Veronica did. Veronica did leave out the part where her grandmother had told her he had some nice arms and-- in her words and Veronica's embarrassment-- "a cute tush" though. Even if she did agree he should wear more colors than black. “Eh, dad’ll get over it. Meatloaf is one of his favorites.” She hesitated before saying what her real want was. “I’ll ask him if you can stay the night.” He rolled his head and protested. “Come on, come on. I know you don’t think they like you but they’re not unfeeling. And I’ll have to tell them you walked out of your dad’s house at some point. It’ll just be for tonight, at least, okay? I really don’t want you sleeping in your car in the cold.” He saw the concern on her face and felt his resolve go.</p><p>“Okay, you can ask.” His smile turned to that little crooked charming one he knew made her go weak over him, wanting nothing more in the moment for a hint of normalcy and to see her smile and laugh. “Might be too much to ask if I can bunk in your room though, right?” She snorted, the change in his tone much needed.</p><p>“Um. Yeah. No. My parents can be cool, but not that cool. I don’t think they’re down with co-ed slumber parties. The guest room is across the hall though.” He took his hand and ran it up and down her arm slowly, causing her body to heat up and shiver at the same time. She still wasn’t sure how he managed to do that to her. </p><p>“I should let you know I sleep walk," he told her as his voice dipped low and suggestively. "I may… happen to do so across the hall. Maybe I’ll accidentally slip into the wrong bed.” She blushed at the suggestion and started giggling at the image of him pretending to sleep walk as her father caught him trying to sneak into her room like some gag on an episode of <em> Growing Pains </em> or <em> Family Ties. </em>“I’ll have no choice but to make sweet unbridled love to the poor virginal pretty young girl residing in it.” She laughed some more as he started to chuckle at the ludicrous situation too, playfully slapping him. He grabbed her gently and placed his mouth on her earlobe, nibbling it carefully causing her to let out a delicate sigh of appreciation.</p><p>"Virginal?" She told him, breathy. "You above all know I'm hardly that."</p><p>"I know, I was there too, remember?" He whispered before leaving one last kiss to her cheek. He pulled away leaving her body flush. She laughed wishing they had time for more but her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear and they laughed.</p><p>“Stop joking, come on, it’s close to dinner time.” Laughing he nudged her one more time before starting the car and heading back to her house.</p><p>“Hey mom!” Veronica called as the two of them headed inside and towards the kitchen.</p><p>“You’re cutting it very close to being late for dinner, young lady,” her mother told her in a warning tone.</p><p>“I told you I had to help JD with something this afternoon and I'd be a little late,” she responded. Her mother turned around finally noticing said boyfriend right behind her.</p><p>“Oh, JD. Hello,” her mother said surprised.</p><p>“Mrs. Sawyer,” he responded in the usual awkward way he did whenever he interacted with her mother. It was at least preferable to the glares and bare minimum politeness her father cycled through with him.</p><p>“Is it okay if he stays for dinner?” Her mother clucked her tongue, figuring out if she made enough for four.</p><p>“You should really have called me ahead. Both for running late and for bringing a guest,” her mother chastised her. In light of the altercation with JD and his dad that afternoon JD and Veronica couldn’t decide if they found it crazy or charming to be chastised by a parent for not calling to say you'll be late and bringing an uninvited guest for dinner at the last minute. Veronica held her tongue, there was a lot to ask her parents that night.</p><p>“I’m sorry mom. A lot happened this afternoon. In fact, that’s why I wanted to bring JD home for dinner.” She took a breath and looked at him before turning to her mother. “JD doesn’t live with his dad anymore.” Her mother stopped futzing with dinner and stared at him.</p><p>“What happened?” Her mother asked, surprised. “Did he kick you out?” She asked in sympathy, not in accusation suddenly aware of the cut on his lip and the faint bruise on his face. </p><p>“It was, well, more of a mutual decision,” he told her, not really wanting to get into the details. Veronica and him had decided it was best to keep the whole incident private except for talking to Dr. Beckett about it. He worried what her parents might think knowing the situation she had been in and what ramifications it could have. The whole thing, they thought, should remain between the three of them so that they could all walk away from it cleanly.</p><p>“He hasn’t quite figured out where he’ll be living," Veronica continued. "I was hoping… if it were okay with you and dad… maybe- maybe he could spend the night here? Just for right now? Not, like, permanently. At least tonight?” Mrs. Sawyer blinked, shocked by the question.</p><p>“This is really Veronica’s idea to ask. If you both don’t want to, I have no problem sleeping in my car.” She dropped the pan she was carrying from the oven on to the table. </p><p>This was a lot to unload on her right now and she knew it would be a lot for her husband to take in. It wasn’t everyday one’s daughter’s boyfriend finds himself homeless and asking to spend the night. She stared at the two of them and breathed out. This was going to be a doozy of a discussion for her and her husband tonight. “Veronica, go set another place for him. Let's just thank god I defrosted a Sara Lee for dessert. Your father’s a little more amenable to discussions with cake in his mouth.”</p><p>“Thanks mom,” she told her, sensing there was a possibility of at least a discussion, as she got the extra plate down and silverware out to set for JD. As they went to the dinner table they spotted her father on the couch reading his book.</p><p>“Hey peanut. Your mother’s upset you didn’t call to say you’d be late,” he said having recognized the tell tale sign of JD's car to drop her off and her footsteps. He didn't think much got past him considering how many spy novels he read. He marked the place in his book and stood to turn around. “Oh. Jason,” he said to JD as he noticed the young man and the extra place setting. <em>Great, I'll have to tolerate the boyfriend at dinner tonight. </em>“I should have realized you weren’t just dropping her off when I didn’t hear the familiar screech from your car as it pulled away.” Veronica laughed halfheartedly to placate her father as JD tensed up already worrying about interacting with him tonight. Veronica put on a smile as she walked up to kiss her father on the cheek. He looked at her warily. She wasn't un-affectionate to him but she didn't always walk right up to him and kiss him like that, especially when he wasn't being completely charitable to her boyfriend.</p><p>“Hey dad. Mom said the meatloaf is on its way out. Oh! And that she put a cake in the oven to defrost.” His eyes brightened at that, at least there’d be cake as his reward for tolerating his daughter’s paramour tonight. He settled himself at the table as Veronica went to the kitchen to help bring the food out.</p><p>JD uncomfortably sat down at the table with her father and the two sat in silence until the food was placed out and Veronica and her mother joined them. They spoke of light things and her mother asked simple questions waiting until the cake to bring up the real reason he was there that night. The only time her father generally seemed interested in what he had to say was when he told her mother that he was looking for a job-- maybe house-painting?-- and had looked into some community college courses tentatively planning to go into civil engineering.</p><p>“Really?” Bill Sawyer asked, surprised to hear it but not in a bad way. It was the first thing he had directly said to the boy all night that was truly pleasant.</p><p>“Um, yeah. I’ll be eighteen soon and I need to start ironing a lot of details out for, you know, after high school.” Veronica smiled at him over the table. Bill didn’t want to admit it, but he was glad to hear it. Not enough to embrace him and leap for joy at the idea of him and his daughter dating, but he was glad to hear it. </p><p>"That's good to hear." Veronica shifted in her seat.</p><p>“Um, Dad, that’s kind of why he’s here for dinner tonight,” Veronica spoke up looking towards her mother.</p><p>“Wait. I’ll get the cake,” her mother said, standing up to fetch the freezer good. As Bill Sawyer took his first bite of defrosted cake Veronica dropped the bomb shell on him.</p><p>“Dad, we were hoping to talk to you and mom about the possibility of JD spending the night.”</p><p>“A sleepover?" He asked, shocked. "You get sleepovers with Martha and Heather. Not him," he said shocked by the idea of it.</p><p>"No, I don't mean like a sleepover Dad. It's just JD needs a place to sleep tonight." Her dad stopped eating his cake and eyed him carefully.</p><p>"What’s wrong with his house?” </p><p>JD hesitated before responding not wanting Veronica to do all the work for him. “My father is moving to Virginia this weekend. We had a fight about it. I am not going with him and he doesn’t want me back in the house,” he said, heavily editing out the full story.</p><p>“He kicked you out?” Her father asked, bluntly and not as sympathetically as her mother had.</p><p>“It was more of a mutual decision,” he responded diplomatically. Her father stared in disbelief at the two of them.</p><p>“You both have to be kidding us with this right now. Sylvia?” He asked his wife to back him up. She had been oddly silent. They weren't some 60s couple where she demurred and he decided after all. She looked away, though, clearly wanting to discuss this and not dismiss it totally. He put his fork down. He'd been married to her long enough to read her mind about that at least.</p><p>“Look, this was my idea dad, not his,” Veronica said.</p><p>“Hey, look- It’s okay. You can say no. I’m going to try and find a room to rent or something,” he told him, seeing that it really was the bad idea he thought it was to begin with.</p><p>Her father didn’t respond. “Veronica, can you please take JD up to your room while we discuss this?” Her mother asked Veronica quietly. JD and Veronica got up and walked to it. </p><p>When they were out of earshot Bill quietly told his wife, “this is not even remotely happening.”</p><p>Sylvia twisted her hands. “Bill, he said his only other option is sleeping in his car tonight. I’m not in love with him either but I can’t let the boy just sleep in his car. It’s going to drop to 40 tonight.” Bill Sawyer dropped his fork. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.</p><p>“Well, maybe he should have thought of that before he walked out of his father’s house.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bill… something clearly went down. You met the man, do you really think the blame is all on Jason?” He turned away, remembering the chip on the man’s shoulder and how easily he sucked down the beers. "And that bruise on his face? You can't be that dense not to read between his lines." He had noticed it. He felt bad now, uncharitably thinking it was yet another fight.</p><p>“No,” he admitted. "You're probably right."</p><p>Upstairs, JD and Veronica walked into her room and collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling. They were both suddenly exhausted, the last few days-- and especially hours-- having been very draining on both of them. They laid on their backs and she snuggled up next to him. He groaned, welcoming her warmth and comfort, remembering how comfortable it had been to sleep with her in this bed last night. It had felt like a million years ago.</p><p>“What do you think will happen when your dad wakes up tomorrow?” She asked him. </p><p>“He probably won’t remember much,” he admitted. “He’ll see my stuff gone, that’s for sure. It’ll take him a while to get moving though. He usually likes to sleep these binges off.”</p><p>“Do you think he’ll come looking for you?”</p><p>“No Veronica. I don’t think he will,” he replied matter-of-factly. She wasn’t sure if he felt that to be a good thing or a bad thing. She didn't even know if it was either. She turned her head and kissed the side of it. She thought to the fleeting image of the other life she had had, knowing now this to be her real life now.</p><p><em>There would be no take</em> <em>backsies, </em>he had warned her. That was fine by her though as she delicately traced the slopes of his face still amazed by the events of the day and how they had turned out. She wondered briefly if the memories and images of her other life would ever fade. She thought about how many people these changes affected. Her parents, her friends. and probably most importantly-- and though she may not love them-- Heather C, Kurt, and Ram had lives to forge ahead. Preferably away from her, but still they had them and that's all that counted.</p><p>
  <em>He had done it, he had changed. The two of us are made of stardust now. </em>
</p><p>He turned to meet her lips with his and they pulled their bodies flush together to kiss when they heard a cough at her door. They quickly split apart on the bed as they saw her mother standing there. </p><p>“We're done discussing the matter. Come downstairs. The both of you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew. This story is far from over as I've told you all before. Veronica's got a major arc coming up and I haven't forgotten about Heather Chandler's revenge. </p><p>And I'm toying with doing "JD goes to Veronica's house for Thanksgiving" in the one shot off shoot bits but maybe dropping it closer to the holiday. </p><p>As always comments are REALLY appreciated. So are kudos. I really want to thank as always anyone who has ever left one.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. You Can Always Depend on the Kindness of Strangers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which changes occur and an invitation is extended.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! A warm thanks to everyone reading, commenting, and kudoing. This is a little bit of a connective chapter and a bit longer than usual, so hopefully the wait was not too bad. Seriously, I really do try to keep the wait to a minimum.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>JD stood in the modest guest room slash storage room at the Sawyer household. It was, as Veronica had told him, across the hall from her room. Inside it was a simple full size bed and held some storage crates of Christmas decorations, off season clothing, and her mother’s sewing machine. All that being said it certainly was more homey than any room he’d slept in in the last eight years. He had gone to his car to retrieve his toiletries, some of his clothes, and the book he was in the middle of along with his school stuff before changing out of his clothes and into an old pair of sweatpants he often wore to sleep in.</p><p>In the end her parents had agreed to the temporary living arrangement much to his surprise. Veronica had thanked them profusely. He knew in his mind he should have as well, but he was just too stunned to have said much more than an utterance of thank you. It had been a long time since anyone over the age of eighteen had ever really shown him as much compassion.</p><p>There were, of course, conditions.</p>
<ol>
<li>This was extremely temporary. He needed to figure out a job, money, and find a more permanent residence as soon as he could. Her father was particularly emphatic about the “soon.”</li>
<li>He would be sleeping in the guest room. Only the guest room. </li>
<li>He would have to sit down with her father and show him all his paperwork he had taken from his Dad’s office as well as the savings bonds to come up with some kind of realistic financial plan.</li>
</ol><p>It wasn’t the worst conditions. A part of him debated sneaking into Veronica’s room as soon as her parents seemed asleep but thought against it which surprised him greatly. If this had been September when she first met him he wouldn’t have hesitated. Hell, the previous night he had snuck in through the window. Both of them were hyper aware though that this was not a situation to test the limits of sneaking behind her parent’s back. He heard a knock on the door frame. Standing there in a long night shirt with long sleeves and a ringer neckline was Veronica.</p><p>He walked up and leaned against it admiring the view of how her night shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination curve-wise and that the material was quite thin-- he could plainly see that she was not wearing a bra underneath it. </p><p>“I like the blue fuzzy slippers," he told her even though he was clearly not looking at her feet. She smiled coyly, getting his drift. "I was just thinking how there was a time not at all long ago I would have just snuck into your room after your parents were asleep tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re not?” She asked, disappointed. He laughed lightly. It still amazed him sometimes how much she wanted him both physically as well as emotionally. “I wish but you’re right,” she agreed, “best not to tempt our luck. Tomorrow morning we’ll definitely get the classified ads and figure everything out. I really don’t know how long my father’s pity can be stretched.” He smiled, understanding a bit better than her that it would hardly be that easy. He was three months shy of eighteen, and while it didn’t feel like much, it was. Especially for things like permission to work and legally renting a room.</p><p>But she was just so happy he was away from his toxic father, safe, and across the hall from her that he didn’t want to ruin it. She reached out to gently brush his fingers. Out of reflex he gently took hers and laced them through his. “You okay in here?” Veronica asked, looking at the random junk in the spare room. “Need a blanket or pillow or something?” His heart genuinely was warmed by watching her fret and futz over him.</p><p>“I’m fine. I’ve slept in worse.” He shrugged, playing it off as blase and cool as he always did. She didn’t doubt that. He reached out with his other hand and toyed with her loose freshly washed hair. He smiled, he had heard the water in the bathroom a little bit ago and wished fervently for the day when they lived somewhere private that he could have slipped into it with her.</p><p>“Well, if you get lonely you can always borrow one of my old stuffed animals to sleep with,” she said trying to make him laugh. He did. She leaned up for a kiss and he was about to meet her when-</p><p>“Honey,” her mother said-- her voice startling them apart-- tersely as she surreptitiously covered her with her fuzzy robe. “Why don’t you leave him alone to sleep, hmm?” Veronica resisted the urge to roll her eyes.</p><p>“I was just saying goodnight mom, that’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you did! And now it’s time to go to bed. In your own room.”</p><p>“Okay.” Her mother turned Veronica’s body around and marched her back to her room. She whispered something in her ear causing Veronica to gasp, “mom!” and blush-- presumably in regards to her nightclothes in front of him-- before retreating to her room. JD resisted the urge to smile at it. It was kind of sweet that her mother thought of protecting her virtue. Even if, well, she had made him compromise it awhile back.</p><p>He closed the door behind him and laid down on the nice full size. It was a surprise how much bigger the bed felt than his old twin size that the rentals usually came with. He was about to reach for his book when his hand wavered on the letter he had kept to himself and found in his dad’s office earlier. He stared at it, unsure if he wanted to open it. He twirled the letter with his name on it he had found in his father’s office a few times hesitant to open it. The envelope had been on personalized stationary. The return address showed it was from a personalized set of stationary. The address had been his childhood one in Texas and the name listed? Valerie Dean. His mom.</p><p>Something in his gut told him what this was. He had never any idea such a letter had existed, his father certainly never told him. Was he waiting to give it to him? If not then why didn't he throw it out? Who knew? Regardless it was his to read now. He just wasn't quite sure he wanted to yet.</p><p>Today had been long and hard though, and tomorrow afternoon he'd be in Dr. Beckett's office explaining it all. He wasn't so sure that adding the emotional weight of whatever was in that letter was something he should be doing right that moment. He put it back on the side table next to the bed and decided tonight was not the night to open it.</p>
<hr/><p>It was about eleven o’clock when Bill and Sylvia heard the phone ring. They were in bed about to fall asleep when Bill reached over to the extension on their night stand and answered it, perplexed by who’d be calling so late. He tensed up, his mother had not been sick lately but at her age-- and still insisting on living alone-- an emergency was always a worry.</p><p>“Hello?” He asked.</p><p>“Hi. Yes. Information gave me this number. Is this Bill Sawyer? Veronica’s father?” It was a man's voice, husky, tired and... a little off.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” he responded surprised. Sylvia looked over at him, concerned at the nature of a call this late as well.</p><p>“What is it? Your mother?” She asked. He held up his finger to her to wait while he listened to the call.</p><p>“Who is this? Can I help you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is he there with you?” The voice responded, still having not even identified himself.</p><p>“Who is this?” Bill asked, more pertinently. </p><p>“My son, Jason. Is he there with you? I just woke up. All of his stuff is gone. I don’t… remember a lot. Is he there with you?” Bill hesitated a moment. He didn’t sound drunk per say… but he wasn’t not drunk either. There was also concern in his voice, not anger. And he did have a parental duty to tell him where his son was. Legally speaking he was still his guardian and he was responsible for his welfare until he was eighteen which was still a few months away.</p><p>“He is. He’s asleep in our spare room. Look, if you want to talk to him it might be best to wait until the morning. You don’t sound…” he tried to think of the polite way to tell the man he still sounded drunk from whenever he had gone to sleep. “You don’t sound… alert.”</p><p>“I have to be in Virginia by Monday. Just, tell him he can do whatever he wants, he’ll be eighteen in February. I won’t declare him a runaway or report the car stolen.” Bill paused, unbelieving that that was all he wanted to say to his son.</p><p>“Do you want to tell him that yourself in the morning?” He asked, barely masking his rage. There was no answer. “Neither of them would tell us much about what had happened, but we saw the bruise on his face. Is this really all you have to say to him?”</p><p>“There’s a bank account in his name his mother left him.” Bill was aghast, but there was no use. "He won’t be able to touch it until February, but he should be okay with that money for a small time.” There was silence.</p><p>“Is there anything else you want to tell him? Anything at all?” Bill was starting to get frustrated. How could a man be so willing to watch his child walk out of his life? No, <em> tell him I love him?  </em> No, <em> tell him I’m sorry? </em></p><p>“Sorry to bother you so late,” was all he said before clicking the receiver down. <em> Coward, </em>was all Bill Sawyer could think. He hung up the phone in disbelief and told his wife what had just happened.</p><p>“He’s better off without him. That’s awful to say but it’s true.” He turned the light out and they settled into the bed.</p><p>“Come here,” he whispered. He took his wife in his arms and held her. She snuggled into their very cozy and familiar sleep position. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”</p><p>“Well… not lately.” She responded, not bothered by it-- it wasn’t something she worried about at that point in their relationship-- but appreciative of the words all the same.</p><p>“I do. You and Veronica are the two loves of my life.” He kissed her head.</p><p>“I love you too,” she told him. “And you’re a good father and a kind man.” He mumbled in gratitude in response. </p><p>“I still don’t like him with her.” She snorted.</p><p>“Trust me. I know.” She paused. “I have to warn you though, it’s not an infatuation... and it’s not fizzling out. She’s in love with him.”</p><p>“I know,” he replied, resigned. “I remember when you handed her to me for the first time,” he told her, warmly. “I was just so happy the two of you were okay. The complications…” It still hurt him to remember that fear.</p><p>“I know,” she replied, equal in the memory. </p><p>“And she was so small,” he warmed at the memory. “And then the doctor told us…” He got choked up a little. “Told us we couldn’t have anymore after her.” Sylvia hushed him. They both had made peace with it a long time ago but it would always still linger. “That was okay though, we had her.”<br/>
<br/>
“And she’s pretty much the best, right?” Sylvia told him with a smile, agreeing with him. They had wanted more kids, but if Veronica was the only one they could have at least they got the best one.</p><p>“She is.” He paused before saying, “I’ll try to accept him with her."</p><p>“That’s all you need to do for right now.” </p><p>He paused. “It still doesn’t mean I have to be very nice to him though.” She laughed and reached behind her to squeeze his leg affectionately.</p><p>“No dear, it doesn’t.” They fell asleep shortly afterwards.</p>
<hr/><p>When JD got up and dressed the next morning he was greeted by an absolute and foreign site: breakfast. Veronica and her father were at the table and her mother was putting bacon, eggs, and potatoes on all four place settings. She was in the midst of pouring the ketchup bottle over her potatoes. </p><p>Four place settings. <em> Oh, they set a place for me. </em>Dazed, he sat down next to Veronica. The smell of bacon was intoxicating. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Morning.” She wished she could kiss him good morning, and wished for a time when they could live somewhere private that they could do that. A stray image of intimate breakfasts just the two of them floated before her eyes. She tried to bat them away, worried that might be too forward of her.</p><p>“Did you sleep okay?” Veronica asked, passing him the Mrs. Butterworth's for his breakfast. </p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” he said barely registering the domestic scene. It took him a moment. Other than diners and fast food he hadn’t had a proper breakfast in a long time. Veronica saw him staring at the food, realizing. She smiled. “This is just because it’s Saturday. And because there’s a guest.” He reached for the pot of coffee. </p><p>"I guess I should tell you that your father called last night asking where you were." <em>He was sober enough to dial the phone at that point?  </em>JD thought, his bitterness not entirely ebbed away. </p><p>“He did, did he?” JD said, tone unreadable as he spread some marmalade on the toast. Mr. Sawyer told him what he said. “Well, that’s kind of him,” he responded sarcastically. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. <em>These people are being nice to you. And they're Veronica's parents.</em> “Did he leave a forwarding number?” He asked,  trying to keep his tone light.</p><p>“Um. No.” JD nodded. The rest of the table sat there awkwardly. It’s what he expected, sure, but it still wasn’t pleasant to hear.</p><p>“Thank you again,” he told them, trying not to linger on it all. “For letting me stay the night. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”</p><p>"Mom, JD goes to the city for an appointment on Saturdays. I'm gonna go with him and join him. We'll be back way before dinner."</p><p>"Appointment?" She asked. "What kind of appointment?" Her mother seemed more confused than accusatory. </p><p>"Um..." Veronica wasn't sure if he wanted her telling them.</p><p>"I talk to someone. A doctor," he supplied for her. He was slowly realizing it wasn't something to be ashamed of. "Twice a week, but I'll see if I can just do one so I'll be able to work Saturdays." </p><p>"You're father paid for that?" Mr. Sawyer asked, surprised. </p><p>"Um, no. I never told him. We agreed to a sliding scale." Mr. Sawyer chewed on his breakfast. He also had to admit to himself that between the revelation that he wanted to take classes next fall and this one that he was seeing a counselor-- his opinion of the young man was starting very slowly to lift from the ground.</p><p>"After dinner tonight then, I'll help you look over the paperwork you brought with you. Your, um, father said something to me last night about a bank account from your mother."</p><p>"That's news to me," he said, surprised.</p><p>"Leave everything you have. I'll make a call after breakfast. See if I can get any details for you.”</p><p>"Thank you."</p>
<hr/><p>They left after breakfast to drive into the city for JD’s arranged appointment with Dr. Beckett. In all the craziness JD wondered if he should have called him beforehand to tell him what happened but the idea of bothering him off hours upset him. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was appropriate or not.</p><p>Veronica and he arrived on time and he left her in the waiting room as he went in. Dr. Beckett was at his desk writing in his notebook. “Sit down, take a load off… i just want to finish this up… and okay. I’m all yours. How are you doing today?”</p><p>“I no longer live with my father,” he told him. </p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” He then proceeded to tell him everything that happened Thursday and Friday up until breakfast at the Sawyers that morning. “Well,” Dr. Beckett said, processing. “This might need more than an hour to unpack. The most important part: you can stay with your girlfriend’s parents for right now?”</p><p>“Yes, but I don’t want to impose on them for long. Her dad’s not my biggest fan.” The doctor snorted.</p><p>“Of course he's not. I like you, but I have a teenage daughter myself, I empathize with him.” JD shrugged. “Money?” He told him about the sum he had already and the bills he took from his dad’s wallet. JD was surprised he wasn’t chided for that. He also told him about the financial stuff he took that Mr. Sawyer was looking at for him.</p><p>“Okay. Shelter and food. Good. And he says he won’t report you missing or the car stolen? Well, that’s the best we could hope for really. Three months doesn’t seem like much but it is a bit of a pickle for some things. I’m glad her parents could help, but yes, I see that maybe it might be good for you to figure out something else.” He tapped his pen on his leg. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me any of this?” JD looked shocked.</p><p>“Bother you? I didn’t know that I could do that.”</p><p>“I don't encourage people to but in an emergency, yes. Having a gun on your father and almost pulling the trigger constitutes an emergency.” He sighed. “Thankfully you made the right choice. I’m glad, not that I think you wouldn't." JD nodded. "You're not as horrible as you think you are."</p><p>“Look, it’s all a little raw. Is it okay if we talk about it all another time? There’s something else I want to talk about first.”</p><p>“More happened?” He handed him the envelope from his mother. “What’s this?” He asked.</p><p>“I think it’s a note.”</p><p>“Well, I can see that.”</p><p>“From my mother. I found it when I was going through his stuff for my paperwork. I think it’s a note that maybe she left before she…”</p><p>“Oh. I'm surprised. Only 25% of people ever leave notes.” He tapped the note on his fingers. “Have you opened it?” JD shook his head.</p><p>“I wanted to do it with you, if that’s okay.”</p><p>“What’s the expression again? It’s your hour.” JD snorted. “Well, open it. She left it for you.” He took it back and sighed. He broke the seal, realizing that even his father never read it. He bit the bullet and started reading the letter.</p><p>
  <em> 7/29/81 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dear Jason, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I assume you’ll be older when you read this? 18? I doubt he gave it to you at nine but… I don’t know him anymore. I guess I just hope he doesn't throw it out.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’ll be a man, or close to one. How handsome you must be. How tall. Those pretty brown eyes, smile, and flop of brown hair. I was right, wasn’t I? All the girls must adore you. And you’re smart, so smart. You could really blow the world up if you wanted to.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope you’re okay. You always felt everything with your whole heart, and never held anything back. I loved that about you but it also worried me. I remember what the Wizard told the Tin Man, “hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable.” Please take care of yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When I met your father I was 22 and I thought he was so handsome with that cocky smile and easy charm. I also felt so bad for him, for all of them. My cousin never came back from Vietnam and it hurt me a lot. Your father was damaged, I know, but I thought my love and kindness could fix him. John Lennon was a beautiful man but he was wrong. Love isn’t all you need. God, I don’t know anything about this world anymore. Hell, someone even gunned him down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was so much I wanted to do, so much I wanted to see. But I never for one minute regretted having you. No matter what. I could never regret my beautiful boy. You were the love of my life. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. I’m sorry I couldn’t fight back. I’m so sorry I couldn’t walk away and give you the life you deserved. I’m sorry you thought you had to protect me. You don’t have to take care of me anymore. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll always love you my beautiful baby boy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mommy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> PS Here’s my engagement ring. Give it to someone special when you’re ready. It was so beautiful, it deserves to be on the finger of whoever special you choose. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wordlessly he handed the note to Dr. Beckett and reached into the envelope where he found the delicate ring. A memory of it on her finger hitting the light danced in his head. Carefully he twirled it back and forth in his fingers as his doctor read the note.</p><p>“JD?” He asked. “Jason?” Finally his attention was gotten. “What are you thinking?”</p><p>“It still doesn’t explain it,” he said quietly. His eyes were still on the ring. </p><p>“Nothing can ever really ‘explain it,’” he told him gently. JD closed his eyes and gently wiped the small tears away before shaking his head loose. “We can always talk about this some more after you have a chance to process it all more thoroughly, okay?” He nodded. “Just remember to breathe, okay?” He finally looked up and saw his concerned face. He took a deep breath and breathed out feeling a little better already. “Keep that ring safe, okay? She wanted you to have it.” He nodded as he slipped it back into the envelope and the whole thing back into his coat.</p><p>“Um, I have to ask if it’s okay to just come on Wednesdays?” He asked, not wanting to deal with anything heavy for the rest of the day. Dr. Beckett sat back in the seat and didn’t push. There were other sessions for that. “I have to look for a job and with school and all it’s hard to find anything not asking for a Saturday shift, you know?”</p><p>“Of course,” he agreed. “Wednesday’s after school it is. And, hey, remember it’s all one day at a time, as cliche as that always seems. All of this, and more, you just process one day at a time.” He nodded. The telltale knock at the door for the five minute warning occurred. JD straightened up, wanting to make sure he was together to deal with the outside world. Carefully JD folded the letter back up wondering if he’d ever read it again.</p><p>As he walked JD out of the office Veronica stood up to greet him. “Veronica? Right?” Dr. Beckett asked. She smiled, the vague memory of a different life washing over her and what he told her the last time she saw him. A part of her wanted to tell him, but she knew it unwise. </p><p>“Yes. Nice to see you.” They had never officially talked that much in this timeline. </p><p>“He always says nothing but nice things about you.” She smiled. “I always wanted to ask: how’d you even hear about me to call to make an appointment?” The same eerie feeling he had when she had called the office the first time washed over him. <em> Like someone walked over my grave. </em></p><p>“A friend’s recommendation.” She shrugged. JD put his coat on and was all set to go.</p><p>“Ready?” He asked. She nodded as he slipped his arm around her side. “See you next week.” Veronica stopped and turned over her shoulder.</p><p>“Oh, by the way-- in January? Put your money on the 49ers, okay?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry what?”</p><p>“Just- trust me, okay?” They walked out of the office and towards where he had parked his car.</p>
<hr/><p>When they got back to Veronica’s house, JD and Veronica were both laying on her bed length-wise on their stomachs. JD had the classified ads open and Veronica had a notebook and cordless phone close at hand to call and ready to write down numbers or info.</p><p>So far things had not gone very well. It turns out renting a room was rather hard to do with no credit history and the fact that he wasn’t quite eighteen yet. Jobs were a bit bleaker as well. JD didn’t have any working papers signed by his dad and the list of jobs available to someone still attending high school were extremely limited even with that. Without? Well, It was all very frustrating. </p><p>“Maybe you should just live in a shoe, and work for the little old lady,” she told him and he laughed.</p><p>“Maybe I should just start charging you for kisses,” he laughed as his frustration turned to other needs and he leaned over to kiss her.</p><p>“Five cents a kiss?” She asked, coyly as he kissed her again. “Hmm… what does a dollar get me?” He heated the kiss a tad up to show her as their bare feet and clothed legs started to tangle together on her bed.</p><p>A loud knock on the door frame broke them apart. “What are you kids up to?” Her father asked, clearly not liking the little scene he stumbled upon even if they had only just been kissing.</p><p>Veronica held up the phone and the classifieds. “The classifieds. Trying to make sure JD has somewhere to go. Jobs.”</p><p>“Don’t you kids think you might be more comfortable doing that in the living room?” Veronica nodded.</p><p>“Thanks for the suggestion dad.”</p><p>“Yeah… it wasn’t a suggestion.” They pulled apart and walked downstairs with the paper and the phone. Her mother had the TV on and was crocheting.</p><p>“I put some cheese and crackers out if you want a snack before dinner,” she told them.</p><p>“What’s for dinner?” Veronica asked as she went to the fridge to pour some Coke for both of them.</p><p>“I made a manicotti this afternoon. I’ll put it in the oven in an hour. So don’t fill up on the crackers.” Veronica whistled.</p><p>“You should stay over all the time. Mom never makes the manicotti.” JD smiled at her cautiously. This whole house was so… different than he was used to. It was like something from TV. A part of him was waiting for the laugh track. He did need to find somewhere else to live though. As cozy as it was, it was her family-- not his.</p><p>After many calls and zero luck her mother called them to dinner. Four place settings, yet again. <em> Don’t get used to it, </em> he kept reminding himself. </p><p>After they had their initial hunger satiated Mr. Sawyer piped up. “I looked through the paperwork. You have a savings account at a bank in Texas your mother set up for you. It’s not a trust fund or anything crazy, but… according to the balance it could help you out a lot.” JD listened intently.</p><p>“I had no idea she… did that,” he replied. Her dad bristled. </p><p>“Well, it’s not accessible until you're 18, but it’s there. I would suggest drawing up a budget with it and...” JD blinked at him. “I can show you how to do that…” he said reluctantly. “Also, I spoke with John McCartney. He owns the pharmacy next to us. I remembered he was looking for help. He said if you’re free after school Tuesday's he needs someone to make deliveries for him. He’ll pay you cash, under the table for now.” JD was practically speechless.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Sawyer,” he replied, meaning it.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks daddy,” Veronica told him. His heart warmed more at that. She hadn’t called him “daddy” in awhile and knew it wouldn’t be often more in his life.</p>
<hr/><p>That Monday at school JD pulled up with Veronica. He got a few stares when they saw all the stuff still squirreled away in his car but he ignored it. The whole weekend at her house was still so surreal. As much as he loved Veronica it still stunned him how different a world she came from. He couldn’t even resent it, it made him happy for her.</p><p>She kissed him farewell before spotting Martha explaining she had to get some notes to her.</p><p>As he lolled his away out of his car Heather McNamara's boyfriend-- Kyle Miller-- spotted him. “Yo! Hey!” He rushed over to him. “Here are your tapes back, man. You mind if I grab some more?” He opened his door and reached for his tape box and Kyle leaned in behind him.</p><p> “Woah. Are you seriously living out of your car, man?” Kyle asked. JD bristled.</p><p>“Not really. Sort of. I mean, I’m staying at Veronica’s temporarily until I figure something out. It’s not a big deal.” He tried to reiterate the last part, the last thing he needed was any pity. “I gotta get out soon though. But until I figure something out I can’t really drive anyone in the back seat though.” In his mind he thought his concern was about the usual lunch plans.</p><p>“No really? You get kicked out or something?” He asked, in that blunt way JD now realized was just his personality.</p><p>“Or something… It was mutual. Look, keep it to yourself. I’m not technically eighteen until February and the school might…  I really don’t know. But just, yeah.” He nodded. Kyle Miller was an incredibly trustworthy source underneath it all. It was how he managed to stay in his position in the pecking order of the school. He was a nice guy that shared his weed and never gossiped any secrets.</p><p>“I hear ya. Same thing happened to my older brother’s friend two years ago. His old man was a piece of shit.” His face lit up. “Well, hey look, my brother just moved out of the basement to live at his girlfriend’s place. I'll talk to my mom, I'm sure it’ll be fine.” JD stared at him, shocked. <em> It can’t possibly work out that easy... </em></p><p>“I can’t- I don’t know. Yeah, so I have money in an account but I can’t touch it until February when I’m 18. Would she want a lot?”</p><p>“I mean, yeah she’ll probably want rent like she got from my brother, but- I’m sure she can cut you a break at first when I tell her you got nowhere else to go. How long?”</p><p>“Three months.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s not that long. Yeah, we’ll talk to her. She was complaining she didn’t want a stranger living there. She can be a bitch sometimes but she's not an asshole," Kyle surmised quite reasonably.</p><p>“Are you sure?” JD was still perplexed by the offer.</p><p>“Yeah. I mean, I know it sounds lame-- a basement-- but my brother, he tricked it out like an apartment, right? Fridge, TV, stereo... the whole Greg Brady bit. His girlfriend is loaded so he left all that stuff behind. It even has a bathroom in it from before my dad moved out and wanted to rent it as a proper apartment. Yeah, if I tell her you’re homeless and shit, sure, why not? It’ll be cool.”</p><p>JD stopped. Were they… Friends? Kyle and him, that is. They talked a bunch, tolerated a few “double dates” for the sake of their girlfriends, and he loaned the guy a couple of tapes when he asked but, friends? He thought Jeff was now his friend and now Kyle… he had two male friends. That was more than he’d had since he was in elementary school, that was for sure.</p><p>“I don’t know, I mean, why would she do that for me?” He asked, puzzled.</p><p>Kyle blinked at him, surprised. “I tell her that you need it and, well, you’re my friend, right?” JD continued to blink at him. Between the Sawyer’s charitable help that weekend and now this guy Kyle’s-- his friend-- he was feeling very overwhelmed. He had no idea people like this existed in the real world. </p><p>People that really help other people. “If you think so.”</p><p>“Yeah, after school today we’ll talk to her. Come on, it’ll be great!" He slapped his shoulder, excited. "You’ll be like our family’s Fonz!” JD laughed, trying to accept that he, well… he had an amazing girlfriend and friends-- friends!-- that cared and wanted to help him. A place, he had found a place to live. Maybe. Probably.</p><p>“Yeah... I hated Happy Days,” he told him. </p><p>“Joanie Loves Chachi fan. I relate. Joanie man.” He nudged him reminding him how hot she was.</p><p>“No,” he rebuffed.</p><p>“Not even Mork and Mindy?” He chimed back. JD relented.</p><p>“All right, that one wasn’t bad. Mork was funny and Mindy was hot.”</p><p>“Laverne or Shirley? Who would you screw?” JD laughed.<br/>
<br/>
“Laverne man, come on.” They were laughing and walking into the school now, like... friends.</p><p>“Marcia or Jan?” Kyle quipped.</p><p>“Jan, no contest. “</p><p>“Mary Anne or Ginger?” He asked JD.<br/>
<br/>
“Ginger,” they both said and laughed not realizing Veronica was right behind him.</p><p>“I always thought the Professor was pretty hot,” Veronica said as she, Heather M, and Martha joined them in the halls before the bell rang. He leaned down and kissed her. "I'm hotter than Ginger though, right?" She asked, clutching her books and not really needing the validation. She just enjoyed being told she was hot by her boyfriend.</p><p>"Of course babe," he replied, as he kissed her.</p><p>"I'm hotter than Gilligan, right babe?" Kyle asked Heather half making fun and half wanting a kiss from his pretty girlfriend.</p><p>"Of course babe," she responded kissing him as the bell rang.</p><p>The whole thing was quite surreal to both JD and Veronica… it was like a normal pattern and life was really beginning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are more than welcome. Thanks for the read as usual. :P</p><p>I kind of want to make a manicotti for dinner now...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Strip Poker and Prom Dates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD moves into Kyle's basement. He asks Veronica a question and gives her a gift. They have spaghetti with lots of oregano.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a bit of a fluff chapter, I admit, about JD's move. I'm sorry it's a bit shorter than usual but it's a connecting tissue before the next major plot movement and the next bit seemed to really start a chapter so... here it is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Look, you swear to me that you’re 18 in three months?” Kyle's mom asked, leaning on the washing machine examining his driver’s license with a cigarette in her other hand. It had amazingly worked out. Kyle's mother-- a full time legal assistant whose husband had left her for the secretary three years ago with three sons-- was perfectly willing to let her son vouch for JD in exchange for it not being a total stranger she was renting out to. It was still stunning him that he had friends that could help him like that. Mrs. Miller ended up having some sympathy for the situation too.</p><p>“Yes,” he said, as he took it back from her and showed her his bank statement from the money his mom left him as proof he had money to pay her when he turned eighteen and could access it. </p><p>“You’re dad really won’t report you? I would love for this to work out so easily but I also don’t want to get in trouble here. You get that, right?”</p><p>“He won’t. Don’t worry.” And that was that. She set a fair rent for him given his bank account and current job employment.</p><p>“I’m trusting you in three months you can give me the money, okay? If you can’t then I’ll have to find someone else.”</p><p>“I’ll pay it, don’t worry." He was pleased. The basement wasn't big but it wasn't half bad either. It had a bathroom-- albeit a tiny airplane one with only a stand up stall-- and a kitchenette with a burner top. It served his needs perfectly. "This is all really… kind of you,” JD said, still stunned by the way things were working out. She stamped the butt out in an ashtray and folded her arms looking at him with sympathy.</p><p>“You’re my son’s friend and he said your dad kicked you out.” She paused. “My dad wasn’t the nicest guy in the world either,” she confessed quietly. “He drank and got mad a lot. He kicked me out of the house when I got pregnant with my first. I wish someone had done something like this for me.” JD nodded, accepting the mutual understanding about having terrible dads, and the deal was set. The next day after school he was driving his boxes over to his new room.</p><p>“Thank you very much for letting me stay here for a few days,” JD awkwardly said to Mr. Sawyer as they stopped off first to get the things he had taken out of his car for living for the few days he was there. Veronica was in the kitchen with her mother packing him some leftovers from the previous night as well as letting him take some pasta and canned goods they didn’t need so he had some groceries. He had told her it was unnecessary, and he had some cash for groceries but she refused to listen.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Mr. Sawyer told him, slightly gruff. He didn't seem to outright hate him anymore, but he definitely wasn't warm to him. He was also grateful he didn't overstay his welcome. “I’m glad you were able to find an arrangement to live.” They were silent together until Veronica came outside with the bag of groceries. </p><p>“I’m gonna help him get his stuff settled, okay?” Her father nodded.</p><p>“Good luck,” he hesitantly said to JD.</p><p>“Thank you, again for all your help.” Mr. Sawyer nodded and JD went to his car and drove himself and his stuff to his new… home. It was his home now, he realized. It wasn't a rental his dad had gotten for their temporary housing, nor was it a spare room in his girlfriend's house. It was his very own space. It was almost overwhelming how much that made him feel secure for the first time in a long time.</p><p>“What are you doing?” He asked Veronica as he spotted her taking things out of his boxes. He usually just stacked them along the wall and only took out what he needed when he needed it.</p><p>“Unpacking,” she told him, blinking in surprise. “Throwing the boxes out.” He stared at her, realizing she didn't know.</p><p>“I don't really unpack them. It makes it harder for the next time-” He stopped as he suddenly realized he wasn’t sure when the next move would be. The end of the school year was still months away and the realization struck him hard-- this would be the longest he’d ever stayed in one place since he was little. Obviously, he wouldn’t be in this basement apartment forever but at least through the summer. There was no need to worry about “the next move” for a while. It was liberating. He could... unpack. He could get a little settled. He could finally throw those janky boxes away. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s… get rid of the boxes." She smiled.</p>
<hr/><p>JD and Veronica were sprawled out on the king size bed Kyle’s brother had left behind in his old basement apartment a few days later with a deck of cards between the two of them. It really was crazy all the stuff he’d left behind. He left behind a bed, mini-fridge, old TV, and some cheap stereo equipment. All of it was stacked on shelves made from cinder blocks and wood he had swiped from a construction site but it all worked. Sort of. The rabbit ears on the television needed tin foil but he could live with that. </p><p>“So how does this work?” Veronica asked holding her cards glancing at her hand debating which ones to keep.</p><p>“You told me you knew how strip poker worked. We’ve already played two rounds,” he replied with a sly smirk.<br/>
<br/>
“No! I know how that works. Jerk,” she replied playfully. “I meant this living in Kyle’s basement thing. You have your own entrance and fridge and bathroom and stuff but like, what are the rules? Like is she cool that I’m over? Is it cool if maybe I even sleep over sometimes?” She asked, tentatively bringing up that desire.</p><p>“I think she only cares if the music’s too loud, honestly. I didn’t really think to ask, honestly. I mean, it’s my space though, isn’t it? I pay her.”</p><p>“Not much though.” Veronica was genuinely warmed by how much of a discount Mrs. Miller had given him.</p><p>“Not much, luckily, but enough to make the situation easy. For all of us. I doubt she wants another son, and I don’t want a parent right now.” They both placed their cards down. He had a pair of tens, her only a pair of 8’s. “Look at that. I win,” he said pleased with himself. He settled back and eyed her, considering. He won the last round and had already had her remove her vest. She had only won the first round and only had him take off his flannel. Hardly fair he'd get to choose a more revealing article first. She really must get better at poker. “Stockings,” he said, his eyes lighting up. </p><p>She smiled and got up. She carefully slipped her hands under her skirt-- trying very hard not to give him any more of a peep of underneath than necessary-- and slowly stripped them off. Being around him-- being really around him-- without the air of anger, murder, and lies was intoxicating. It wasn't just him who had become different she was too. And this new person she was becoming was, well, a Veronica she liked a lot. When she was done shimmying and shaking she carefully placed them on top of her bag before returning to lay down next to him on the bed. His chest rose and fell and his fingers itched to slide up and down her thighs, parting them, and-</p><p>They agreed to the game. He dealt the next hand.</p><p>“Also," he said, picking up on the one question she had. "You want to have slumber parties?” The look in his eyes was warm and coupled with her sudden lack of any clothing under her skirt made her whole body tingle. </p><p>She smiled back. “Yeah. I do.” A frisson passed between them as they realized how their relationship had progressed. What had started out as a flirtation and attraction had blossomed into something much more. They were in love. And they were both different people now-- for the better-- because they met.</p><p>"I'm okay with that." She felt a rush of tingles at the thought. </p><p>“Is it okay if I leave some things here then? Like a toothbrush or comb or change of clothes?” she asked tentatively.</p><p>He reached over to carefully stroke the soft skin behind her knee. He had discovered that spot recently and how much she enjoyed being touched there. She sighed, enjoying the feel of his thumb stroking her. “Why not go crazy? You want a drawer?”</p><p>“If that’s okay.” They both discarded their throwaway cards and drew their replacements. “I don’t want to be pushy into your new life here. I just mean, I think a girlfriend gets a drawer at her boyfriend’s place. It's like a law or something I think.”</p><p>“You can have a drawer,” he told her. He smiled slyly, honestly looking forward to when she could do that. Maybe once she was eighteen her parents wouldn’t reign her in anymore. She could lie, he guessed, but that wouldn't be too often. It also strangely twinged at him to do that to her parents since they had done him such a kindness recently. He really was changing, he realized.</p><p>She was pleased at a peach to hear him say that. <em>I have a drawer at my boyfriend's place. </em>They showed each other their next card hands. Veronica had a three of a kind, so did JD. Hers were eights though and his were fives. She clapped in glee. “T-shirt,” she decided. He snorted and got up and took his shirt off. She bit her lip as she openly flicked her gaze over him and they settled back on the bed. She couldn't deny how good he looked without his shirt on. He reached over and gently touched her face before going in for a kiss. She lightly pushed him away.</p><p>“Not yet, okay?” He pouted. “Hey! Strip poker was your idea buddy and we are still fairly clothed,” she said as she dealt the next hand. He leaned back and reminded himself they could take their time. There was no threat of his father returning home anymore. “Well, all things considered we can be grateful it’s a mattress and not a water bed,” she laughed referring to the shag throw rug, black light, and the beads in the doorway as they started the next round. Kyle's brother had even left behind a special black light poster on the wall JD had wanted to take down for being cheesy but Veronica thought was too ridiculous to not keep up. Kyle hadn’t been wrong comparing his brother’s set up to Greg Brady. It was like 1979 had thrown up all over the place.</p><p>“Right? You know, maybe I’ll go crazy and buy a bookshelf.” She saw his massive piles of books littering the floor they didn’t know where else to put. A shelf would be useful.<br/>
<br/>
“Keep it sane baby.”</p><p>They showed their hands. JD had a straight, she had bupkis. She bit her lip, knowing it was her turn to take an article of clothes off again and whichever he chose would leave her pretty naked. He’d seen her naked before of course, but in the context of this slow teasing game it felt a little more scandalous. This was also in his new room, his new bed, and new life. It all felt like a real fresh start.</p><p>JD considered the quandary of which article of clothing to ask her to take off carefully. Top or bottom? “Top,” he decided realizing he was desperate to know which one of her bras she was wearing that day. The black lace one was his favorite, but he liked all of them.</p><p>She sat up and slowly unbuttoned her top, before sliding it off her torso teasingly slow before she discarded it. He was starting to have trouble looking at her eyes. Her bra today was the white one with baby pink lacing and his fingers were itching to say “fuck it” to the rest of the game and strip it off her and bury himself in her warmth, but he was also enjoying the slow torture. </p><p>Veronica’s cheeks heated up as well, she didn’t mind the lascivious look on his face as he blatantly stared at her in just a bra. Nope, she didn't mind it one bit. He dealt the next hand.</p><p>“I tried sleeping on a water bed once in… California was it? Never again. It makes you seasick. Now, magic fingers in a cheap motel room, those!” He chuckled.</p><p>“What are ‘magic fingers’?” She asked, feeling a little less sophisticated than he.</p><p>He just laughed. “I’ll take you to a cheap motel and show you sometime,” he promised as they discarded their waste cards.</p><p>“Oh baby, you know how to make all a girl’s dreams come true…” she told him dreamily as she reached her hand out and placed it on his cheek mockingly. He kissed it and they laughed as they showed their hands. Veronica had a flush, he had two two’s. A smile crept up her face. “I'm so sorry. I guess it’s gonna have to be the pants babe,” she sighed wistfully, playing up the resignation. He got up and undid his belt her eyes lustfully watching him.</p><p>“I think technically the belt counts as a separate article you have to get removed first,” he teased. She gave him a look. He laughed. “I’ll let it slide just this one time.” He kicked them off and slid back into bed with her. He was now wearing just his boxer shorts and both of them realized it wouldn’t be that much longer before the game would be abandoned. In an effort to keep them both distracted she changed the subject as he dealt the next hand.</p><p>“Oh you’ll never believe it. Martha’s going to the prom with Jeff,” Veronica told him, also subtly trying to bring up the prom question up. Prom wasn’t until March, sure, but the tickets had just gone on sale and she wanted to make sure they were settled for going. She’d always figured having a boyfriend meant an automatic date but she wasn’t sure. It wasn't exactly the kind of event a guy like JD relished. Did he have to actually ask her flat out? Why was she being so oddly old fashioned about it? Why not just ask him outright if she cared that much? She resigned herself to do just that if this conversation didn't get an invite.</p><p>She did feel a little silly worrying about things like prom dates considering everything that they had just gone through. But perhaps it was because of everything that had happened she wanted to go back to worrying about silly things like the prom. The image of her walking into the Westerberg gym for prom on his arm was a very powerful one she couldn’t help but want to make sure happened. She knew the prom was as lame as he probably thought it was but she couldn't help still wanting to go.<br/>
<br/>
“He did?" He said, surprised. He hadn't mentioned it to him.<em> Do we have the kind of friendship where we tell each other that sort of thing?</em> "Well, I don’t think it’s meant to be any romantic sort of an evening,” he told her, unsure if it was his place to tell her he wasn’t into girls. "She doesn't think it is, does she?" He asked worried. He liked Martha and Veronica had told him of her propensity to crushes owing to small acts of male kindness. He’d hate to see her hurt. If he asked her it was probably just so he could go and have fun with his newly found friends. </p><p>Veronica shrugged. “I don't think she thinks it's anything like that. I think she’s just happy to be invited. It’s not really a thing to go stag and she would hate to miss out. She told me he was clear it was just as friends.” Veronica started toying with a loose string she had noticed on her bra debating if she should pull on it, or if doing so would ruin the garment. He reached over and carefully brushed her fingers away, his own wanting to touch the soft skin not covered up by her undergarment. She sighed, her body wanting him to touch her more intimately. He looked at her seriously, knowing what she was getting at by bringing up the prom and pulled back.</p><p>“Come on, just tell me now. Do I have to take you to the prom?” Her eyes widened at the way he put it.</p><p>“Well, that was an invitation. Way to make a girl feel special,” she told him, not meaning to sound hurt but she couldn’t help feeling a little chafed.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I just mean- Do you want to go? I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t really care about going. But I love you, so I’ll take you if you do.” He looked flummoxed but her smile lit up her face.</p><p>“Is Jason Dean officially asking me to the prom then?” She asked, hopefully. He sighed. <em>She really wants to go and Veronica Sawyer liked to be specifically asked things.</em></p><p>“Veronica Sawyer, will you go to the prom with me?” He asked, in a serious manner. She could hardly contain her excitement and leapt over the cards knocking them out of his hand as she flung her own away and kissed him, excited. </p><p>“We won’t stay long, I promise.” She pulled him closer and kissed him deeper. “We can take your car, we don’t have to waste money on a limo or anything crazy.” Her hands moved from his face down the rest of his body, feeling the strength of his long arms as they began to catch up with what was happening and wrap around her, his hands reaching down first to unzip her skirt before roaming up her back. “You don’t have to wear a tux but a suit jacket and tie would be nice. I really want to see what you look like in a jacket and tie.” She was breathing heavily as her lips dove back to his. The way she was kissing him so reverently was enough to make him agree to wear whatever she wanted. He had no idea asking her to the prom was going to illicit this response.</p><p>He took it for what it was, honestly glad a little thing like this could make her so happy. He could suffer one night in a monkey suit for her. He rolled her on top of him, the cards strewn all over the place and unhooked her bra, tearing it away from her body.</p><p>“Oh, What about the game?” She asked, breathless as his hand closed over her breast.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh fuck the game. I had a royal flush, I think that should get me the rest of your clothes. And I graciously succeed the rest of mine to you,” he told her as he already felt her fingers pushing those away.</p><p>They were laying on his pillows facing each other in the afterglow of their lovemaking as he carefully stroked her face with the back of his fingers. “I’ve never actually played strip poker before. Have you?” He asked.</p><p>“Nope,” she told him as she leaned her face into his touch, savoring it.</p><p>“I have to admit that was more fun than just flinging our clothes off and boning on the neighbor’s swing set,” he admitted.</p><p>“I don’t know, there’s something to be said for that though,” she told him. He chuckled. “Oh gosh, listen to me. You’ve turned me into a woman of experience, you know that? Who would have thought that of Veronica Sawyer?” He leaned in and kissed her. There was something he wanted to do all afternoon and now seemed like a good time.</p><p>His smile was giddy. “I have something I’ve been meaning to give you. Would you like it?” She stared at him surprised. </p><p>“A gift?” She was surprised. In the financial situation he was in she would hate for him to spend money on her. “Oh JD, you shouldn’t. No really, you need your money to-”</p><p>“I, uh, didn’t spend anything. But it’s something I want to give to you.” She was intrigued. Carefully she sat up, bringing his blanket up with her for the warmth. He leaned over to the little table by his bed and opened the drawer, taking something out. He held his two closed fists out to her. He shook them as if to ask her to pick one. With a smile she pointed to his right hand. He opened it up and-<br/>
<br/>
She gasped at the string of pearls he was holding. “Oh JD, this is- for me?” He nodded as she took them from his hand and stared at them. “Are these real?” She said shocked. He nodded. She quickly handed them back to him. “This is too much.” In response he insisted and handed them back to her. “I- where did these come from?”<br/>
<br/>
“They were my mom’s,” he said wistfully. “He threw out most of her things after- after she died. I was upset, she loved her clothes and jewelry and wouldn’t have liked them just randomly gone. I honestly didn’t realize he had kept them. I saw them when we were getting my stuff and took them.” Veronica’s eyes got soft as he continued talking. It was too much, but it was hard to argue with him or not appreciate the gesture. “I think she would have wanted them to be worn by someone special. And you’re pretty much the most special person in the world. To me at least.” She touched the delicate necklace and the smooth beads. </p><p>“I can’t- these are special to you. I'm sorry. I know this is important to you but I can’t keep these.” She felt strange accepting such an important and expensive gift, vague memories of her grandmother warning her not to accept expensive jewelry from men floating in her head.</p><p>He saw her expression and realized she may have been right. “I guess you’re right. It might be too much as a gift.” <em> Right now at least. </em> “What about a loan though? Can you wear them to the prom? I think she’d like that. And, well… I’d like that.” She knew enough not to argue any further. The way he was looking at her made her realize how much it meant to him that she wore them at least as a loan. Her eyes started to water up and a few stray tears spilled out. Quickly he brushed the tears of joy away. </p><p>She sat up and lifted her hair back. “No harm in trying them on though, right?” He nodded. “Fasten it for me?” A smile tugged at his lips as a memory flashed in his mind.</p><p>
  <em> "Jason, fasten the clasp for mommy?" The delicate honey voice of his mother asked him. </em>
</p><p>It used to hurt to remember her-- the most vivid being his last one-- but after reading her note and talking with Dr. Beckett he began to allow the good ones back in and instead of numbing him they made him feel warm. It was starting to feel comforting to remember-- especially the good ones. </p><p>JD put the pearls around Veronica's neck and closed the clasp, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her back. She turned to him and smiled back.</p><p>“How do they look?” He traced his mother’s pearls on the smooth skin of her neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, that looks right.” She reached her hand out to his cheek and leaned in to press a delicate kiss against his lips. He pulled her in for more before the tone shifted and she brought him back down to the sheets with a bit of a thump. This caused them both to giggle between kisses before Veronica moved to straddle him and position him to go again and the tone changed on a dime. He tried to reach upwards to meet her but she pushed him back down slightly rough and pinned him to the bed which served to make him want her even more. Sure he could probably overpower her, but he had very little desire to do so.</p><p>They were pretty much in their own little world so they didn’t hear the door to the basement open and someone loud thump down the stairs.</p><p>“Oh my god! I didn’t- You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!” Veronica yelped as she broke apart from JD and hid under the blanket. </p><p>Mrs. Miller held a hand up to block the view of her tenant and his girlfriend naked in bed together. “I’m not here! I just need to throw a load in! I will make sure I knock before doing the laundry again. It was my older son down here for the longest time and I didn’t think to-” She was flummoxed, it hadn't even occurred to her that the boy would have a girlfriend over. She knew it wasn't really her responsibility to care about that in any parental sense but it was certainly indecent to not knock for any renter, right? She was kicking herself for not even thinking to respect his privacy.</p><p>“It’s okay,” JD told her as his embarrassment was also in full swing and he tried to cover himself up as well. It was odd to be caught in bed with his girlfriend by his landlady. Not the same awkward as if it were either of their folks but incredibly awkward either way. “It’s my fault for not remembering the laundry machine is down here.”</p><p>“We’ll figure something- you know what, I’ll just finish this up- You two can-” She pushed start on the machine and they heard the clothes begin to tumble. “Oh!  By the way you’re both welcome to come upstairs to join us for dinner later if you want. It’s just spaghetti and meatballs though but I always put extra oregano in it so- yeah. Upstairs. We eat there.” They heard the door close and lock behind her.<br/>
<br/>
Once the embarrassment died out they both laughed uproariously. She stared at him, eyes wide with expectation. </p><p>“You want us to join them for dinner, don’t you?”</p><p>“Well, it is my favorite…” She reminded him. He kissed her quickly, acquiescing to her wishes, before flopping back on the bed and resting his arms behind his head amazed at the new chapter in his life. If the worst trouble he'd had for the day was his landlady accidentally-- and to her complete chagrin-- walking in on him with his girlfriend than he was already in a significantly better place in life. Tomorrow after school he'd be off to the drugstore for his new job and he could start building his new life.</p><p>It was pretty terrific really.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Also, shout out to everyone doing so, it really keeps this going.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I'm in the Middle Without Any Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD turns eighteen, Veronica makes a purchase, and a party is attended.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! Sorry for the wait (as always)... so I've gone back to in person work after six months. I hope this won't affect writing (it may actually make me write more) but that's why this is a bit late. It's been a hectic week getting back in the grove all around.</p><p>The chapter title is a lyric from the song called "Eighteen" by Alice Cooper and it gets sung in the ending part. No ownership, obvs.</p><p>ANYWAY. This sure will make up for it. It's 10K words. It probably should be two separate chapters but I really couldn't find a good place to chop it up and well... whoever complained about a long chapter? Right?</p><p>A thank you as always to EVERYONE reading this, commenting, and kudoing. I really, really, really, appreciate it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Veronica was with Martha and Heather at the nearby mall shopping. February had snuck up on them and Veronica was perplexed over her gift giving options. JD was turning eighteen next week. Eighteen years old. Finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a birthday Veronica, it’s okay,” JD had told her when she had excitedly asked him if he wanted anything special. “I mean, it’ll be nice to be able to access my money and get a better job on the books but… that’s really it for me.” He shrugged. “We can buy some porn, lottery tickets, and smokes if you really want to have a good time, right?" Veronica was not going to accept that. He may not realize how important of a milestone it was beyond the usual way eighteen was but she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the birthday that he was never meant to see. The one he had never gotten. It was proof that the world had changed and it was going to keep on doing so. Proof that they were both alive and had limitless potential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry JD. You’ve accepted me into your life. That means the birthday is going to be a big deal.” He mumbled, he grumbled… and then learned to accept that she was going to force ice cream cake on him, maybe even a Fudgie the Whale. Oh most definitely a Fudgie the Whale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he told her. “Apparently I have to ‘learn how to let people who love me do nice things for me,’” he said, repeating something he most likely got at therapy. “It’s just been awhile. I do remember a Star Wars themed birthday for my seventh. My mom even tried to draw the ‘happy birthday’ letters in the Star Wars font.” He smiled at the memory. Veronica’s heart warmed. He had begun to tell her random nice memories of his time with his mom and any information he opened up to her about made her happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it your dad wasn’t mister birthday,” she said, carefully. He hadn’t been mister Christmas either; she had found out a few months back when she had to drag him kicking and screaming into a fun Christmas life. In the end he had enjoyed it. Well-- as she accurately suspected-- he enjoyed her joy for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last year he gave me a couple of cans from the case he got.” He shrugged, remembering his dad tossing him the Coors Light as he muttered, ‘happy 16th birthday.’ He didn’t correct him that he was seventeen now and drank a few with him watching a basketball game in silence before heading upstairs to fall asleep. It had been the only wish of ‘happy birthday’ he had gotten all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then. Best be prepared for a proper eighteenth celebration,” she decreed. She did notice that he couldn’t but help but crack a tiny smile at it as he pulled her into him for a quick kiss to the side of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, you two are coming to Charlie Sandusky’s annual blow out, right?” Heather had asked her at the mall unexpectedly. Every year Charlie Sandusky-- who lived out on some of the farmland on the edge of town-- threw a huge party when his parents went to some agricultural convention. Veronica had never been to it since getting invited to any party was still a new phenomenon to her. Heather Mac had never been either, owing to her status as popular princess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a farm party, you know that Heather, right?” The Heathers and other Westerberg royalty did not go to farm parties. Those were for the more stoner, freak, weirdo kids and usually attended by kids who had graduated but weren’t in college. It was about as far from her life as one could get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Kyle always goes. It’s him and his brother’s friends. That’s kind of why I want to make sure you’re going. It’s not... really my crowd but I am trying to socialize with his friends. Especially his older brother,” she said a little nervously. “They’re super close. Their dad has only popped in and out occasionally the last few years and their mom works so much. I think he pretty much took care of him.” She quieted up, less she spilled any of his secrets. “I think… I think Justin thinks I’m stuck up or spoiled or something. Like I’m playing a goof on him for dating Kyle,” she said, tentatively and a little worried. Veronica looked at her kindly. She could be stuck up often, and she didn’t doubt that that was what Kyle’s brother Justin thought. But Veronica knew she went out with him because she liked him not as some elaborate prank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s totally fair. I mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does. I know that. But I’m trying to show him I’m not.” She genuinely looked determined. “That being said I won’t really know anyone else there. And Kyle wanted JD to come because he’s got better tapes and stuff than most of his friends. Please say you’ll come.” She put her hands up and pouted, begging. Veronica laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I’m not sexually attracted to you Heather? That doesn’t work on me.” She continued and batted her eyes excessively. Veronica laughed. “Okay, okay. Um, sure? I mean, it’s on his birthday but that could be fun. He absolutely forbade a party for him, but not a party to go to. I mean, I got him a cake for afterschool to eat. Can you believe he’s never had a Fudgie the Whale?” Martha audibly gasped. Fudgie was only a mild second to her preferred love affair with Cookie Puss but still. “I know! But a big party would be fun for him. Branch out, socialize.” And he’s seen her after shots at a party, she kind of wanted a little tit for tat. “Martha wanna come with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes!” Heather said. The three of them had done a slumber party a few months back and Heather M had decided that Martha was a perfect project for her. She too had a symmetrical face and she was determined to find her someone to hook up with. Martha hadn’t completely changed her look but little things-- wearing her hair down, sweaters without childish things on them, and a touch of makeup-- had definitely had an effect on her. She was starting to look her age and look fun and exciting. Martha was feeling better too, and Veronica had noticed and felt proud of her. It wasn’t really about her weight. Confidence-- as corny and after-school special as it sounded-- really was the most attractive thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also, she may have had a prom date with Jeff but she really did understand it to be more of a, “well, no one else to go with let’s go together so we can all sit at the same table” kind of a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely,” Heather told her. “Boys from the other schools and stuff go to it. We can find someone for you to talk to.” Martha looked unsure. “I can do your hair and makeup and stuff! Oh my god, say yes!” Martha looked petrified now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… Don’t kids, like, do PCP at parties like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They did. Frequently. It wasn’t a farm party if two kids didn’t come to blows at some point during it. “You don’t have to drink or do drugs if you don’t want to. But it would be fun for you to meet other kids and stuff. And we’ll be there,” Veronica told her. Martha wasn’t sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god! Perfect! You can be the designated driver. If it's JD’s birthday we can’t make him be the sober Sally driver. And I don’t trust Veronica to drive sober let alone if she has a few in her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I passed the road test!” Veronica responded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, on your third try,” Martha agreed, “by one point.” Veronica huffed, but couldn’t deny the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless, Martha, yes. It would be nice if you drove us home,” Veronica admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a car though…” She responded, though she seemed to be leaning into the concept as a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can drive JD’s home. I’ll… talk him into it.” She’d been in the car with Martha during their joint driver’s class and the girl took driver’s safety to the next level. JD was protective over his car though, but not so much that if he had been drinking he’d drive it. “Either way, it would be fun to hang out with you at a party like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be a fifth wheel…” She was always so hesitant to join her and Martha with things when they brought their boyfriends even though Veronica repeatedly assured her it was more of a group thing than a “date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Heather told her. “I’ll have half of the Jefferson boys all over you by the end of the night. And, like, it’s a party. It’s not like going to the movies or a diner. Usually you just sit on the couches and people come to you.” It was hard to hate on Heather Mac for not understanding what it was like to not be naturally pretty and likeable. She really didn’t understand the plight of a person that didn’t have the natural ability to attract others at a whim with little work. It really could be a bubble. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Do it. Do it.” Heather started tugging on Martha’s sweater sleeve. She held her arms up in defeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay I’ll go. I mean... are there really that many cute boys at these things?” She asked, tentatively. Heather squealed and Veronica hugged her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yay. This is a plan,” Veronica squealed as she mentally tried to figure out how she was going to get her antisocial boyfriend to agree to a party. One where he’d have to interact with others and be his charming and perky self. Well, he was never perky, but he could crack a smile with a stranger when he was cajoled enough. She couldn’t help but selfishly relish though that his real smile-- his sexiest and most secret one-- was usually reserved just for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they talked the three girls found themselves in the lingerie store. Heather had a fascination with cute and fun panties-- and bought them frequently-- and the other two girls went along for the ride. She had mentioned wanting to get a new pair with polka dots or some other fun print. “I don’t exactly think I’m going to find a birthday present for JD in here,” Veronica quipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I think you will,” Heather said and Veronica blushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heather!” She batted Veronica away and led her towards the more scandalous ones in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god. I love this. Try it on,” Heather said holding it up to her. She held up a blue and black bustier. It had bows and a floral lace pattern in black with hooks to hold up the hose. The matching underwear had ribbons that held it up. “Blue is absolutely your best color. It just goes so well with your dark hair and complexion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, no I can’t!” Veronica said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you totally can. You said you wanted him to have a really great birthday,” she said teasingly before she began humming, “bow chicka bow wow…” The girls all laughed. “Look at the ribbons, it’ll be just like opening up a present for him.” Veronica blushed even redder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it!” Veronica hissed, becoming embarrassed, but warming to the thought kind of quickly. Veronica looked back and forth between her and Martha. She looked to her oldest friend Martha whose face was unreadable and Heather Mac’s which was encouraging. “I don’t know, it doesn’t really look comfortable,” she said. Heather laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bustier and hose set, comfort isn’t really the main reason to buy it,” Heather quipped. Veronica hem hawed, she’d never worn any underwear as risque as that. It felt scandalous, even if only JD would see it. But she did like the idea of feeling sexy. Especially with him. And especially as a nice way to celebrate his eighteenth birthday-- the one he was finally going to have. She’d figure out a way to spend the night, make it special with him. “JD would lose his mind if he saw you in that. And you said it was his eighteenth. Make it special!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it came in my size and I had a boyfriend I’d at least try it on,” Martha said, much to Veronica and Heather’s shock. “What? It is cute, and it’s not the most saucy one in here. It has bows. Please, Madonna wears more skimpy ones to appear on Carson.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Even Martha says to try it on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think he’d like something like that?” Veronica asked, suddenly very warm to the idea. An image of his charming and special smile slowly spreading across his face as she undressed in front of him revealing the bustier popped into her head. She had to admit it was intoxicating to think of his warm fingers tugging at the ribbons of the set and whispering her name and how sexy she was reverently, like a prayer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he a boy? Does he breathe?” Veronica reached to check the price tag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. No. That is too much.” Heather looked at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s 50% off though,” Heather said. “I say… you get this, the book thing you claimed he would like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hardbound and embossed new translation of Flowers of Evil by Baudelaire,” Veronica clarified. “It… has special meaning for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A book. I get it. That’s really neat. But this-! This will be the cherry on the top. Or the whip cream. I mean, you could also bring some Reddi-Whip to compliment-” Veronica punched her in jest as she giggled and carried on. “I think I have some handcuffs you could always-” The giggles got worse as Heather carried on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it on,” Martha said, smiling. Veronica stopped, shocked. “If it fits then you can decide then.” She was right. It wouldn’t hurt to see how she looked in it. JD had never told her he liked things like that but of course he wouldn’t. He probably didn’t even think it all right to ask her. Veronica picked up the one in her size and marched off to the changing room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at herself in the mirror. “Does it fit?” Heather called. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like a glove. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She admired herself in it, feeling warm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll like it. We’ll make the night special. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it wasn’t just for him she realized as she stared at her reflection, it made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>sexy and she immediately liked that feeling. She also really liked how busty it made her look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at this different and evolving Veronica in the changing room mirror. All that had changed, all that they had done and been through-- she deserved moments like this now, didn’t she? She deserved to start making daring choices and to feel happy. Didn’t she always want to just be a seventeen almost eighteen year old enjoying life with her sexy rebel boyfriend? Now here she was. She was spending her senior year of high school going to a big party and celebrating eighteenth birthdays. Soon prom, graduation… than who knew what else? It was all making her feel very, very excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her decision was made. Funny how a sexy corset could elicit such a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica brought it up to the cashier to ring it up and she handed over her cash. “And that night,” Heather added, “just tell your parents you're sleeping at my house. I’ll cover for you. He’s got his own place, sort of. Take advantage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they were leaving Heather Chandler and Heather Duke walked into the store, dropping the temperature around them as they did so. As was their custom </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh look, is Veronica Sawyer just picking up her fresh pack of Haynes Her Way?” She quipped as she spotted her shopping bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe those undershirts with the little flowers on them,” Heather Duke chimed in. Veronica was glad they didn’t see what she was buying. She thanked the cashier and clutched the bag against her body protectively as if Heather C had x-ray vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them tried to ignore her. “I figure you two are going to Charlie Sandusky’s loser and freak farm party with the hicks. Guess there won’t be any designer shoes there to worry about you ruining when you party out too early from your metallic Natty Lights and Jose Cuervo.” Veronica didn’t acknowledge her. “Make sure not to fuck every bumblehick in the barn Heather. Lots of them are related. Be awkward at holidays, you know?” They pushed past her and they walked out of the mall trying not to let Heather’s quips get to them. “Oh, and I hope the rest of the store makes plenty of room for the Dumptruck pushing through.” Martha gritted her teeth and pushed on with the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated that after everything she had just gone through someone like Heather Chandler could still get her down like that. Heather Chandler was alive and well. She should be glad. And she was. The trauma that her accidental-- on purpose-- suicide by her and JD’s hands had been the catalyst of both their downfalls. Not killing her had definitely been the better choice, if for just the selfish reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just wished Heather would just be slightly a better person for it but she doubted she ever would be. At the end of the day, if the worst she was capable of were some nasty jibes and catty laughs then that was something she could put up with. She would never have to deal with her again after graduation in June.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, does she just have to be a bitch all the time?” Martha asked as they waited for Heather’s mom to pick them up. She was at her first Parents Without Partners meeting. Heather’s dad had moved out two weeks ago and in with his secretary. It was something Veronica wanted to ask her about-- and how she was doing-- but also wanted to wait until Heather wanted to talk about it with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes she does,” Heather M said sadly. “It’s hard for her not to be.” She looked down on the ground. “Was I like that? I mean, I know I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could be,” Veronica told her, not wanting to placate her but also not wanting to be cruel about it. “I mean, you were laughing and cheering Heather on when she left the note for Martha and at the party,” Veronica pointed out. She remembered how JD had once brushed her off as just “another Heather.” And as much as she had changed-- they all had-- she wasn’t completely innocent either. “Guilty by association I guess. You didn’t really instigate the issues but… you never stopped them and you egged them on a bit once they got started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I guess I did.” She paused as she checked up the road. Her mom’s red sports car was not in sight yet. “I mean, with my mom and dad fighting all the time it felt nice to be at school and be a bit powerful. Loved, respected.” She shrugged. “It’s not an excuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An apology wouldn’t go amiss,” Martha said, softly. Heather turned to her, blinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God. Did I not-? I thought I did!” Martha shook her head. Out of nowhere Heather Mac pounced on her dragging her close. Martha took a step back flummoxed. Martha was a hugger by nature, but she wasn’t accustomed to Heather’s pounces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my gosh!” Martha squealed. “I get the message! Get off!” They both were laughing and Heather’s mom’s car squealed up at the curb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi girls! Have fun shopping?” She asked as they all piled in. Heather looked quizzically at the baseball hat on the floor of the car. It was for the Cleveland Indians.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is this in here? Daddy likes The Cubs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He does.” Her mother didn’t elaborate. Heather dropped the hat like it was on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Veronica and Martha exchanged a look in sympathy. Neither of them knew what it was like to have parents who date and were at a complete loss as to how to help Heather other than to wait until she wanted to talk about it.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>On the morning of JD’s 18th birthday Veronica was in the kitchen futzing with the stove as her mother cautiously watched and sipped her coffee from the mug the girls from work gave her. It was yellow and labeled, ‘kiss the librarian!’ “Honey, stop watching them. They cook for thirty minutes, all right? The timer says two more. When they’re done put a fork in and see if it comes out clean. Everyone thinks baking is so difficult. You bought the box, just follow the instructions on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. I just don’t want to burn them.” She pulled the muffins out just as her father came down for his breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey. Fresh muffins. Is this some home ec homework?” He asked, reaching over to try and grab the freshly made chocolate chip muffins. She slapped his hands away with laughter.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, I’ve never taken Home Ec. It’s not 1950. We have Home and Careers now and they make the boys take it too. And I had it last year. Don’t you remember that pitiful stuffed animal I tried to sew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. It was supposed to be a bear, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A dog actually. And you get the small one, okay?” She handed him the runt of the litter muffin-wise. She took the rest and put them in a small basket she had already put some bows and ribbons on. Inside were his favorite candies and salted snack products. All in all she was quite proud of her gift basket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you make them?” He asked, laughing. “I do not think you have ever taken an interest in baking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s JD’s birthday,” her mother told him with a knowing smirk. Her mother had been teasing her all morning about her attempts at baking for his birthday. She was glad that Veronica had bought the cake instead of trying to make it. That had been her family’s secret recipe for years; passed down from grandmother to mother to now her own daughter. She was glad to see it being used.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After packing up the muffins she also went to the pan and started putting freshly made pancakes with syrup and butter in a  Tupperware with a few sausages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so I assume I get none of this special breakfast as well,” her father joked but was slightly serious about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for goodness sake. You can have some of the extra pancakes,” her mother told her father as she kissed his head and gave him a few. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honk. Honk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She squealed as she quickly gathered her things and all of her surprises for JD’s birthday. “Oh, he’s not coming in?” Her mother said. “I wanted to tell him happy birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let him know, okay?” She kissed her mother goodbye for the day. As she kissed her father he grumbled at her from behind his paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, tell him the same for me.” Veronica smiled and gave him a quick extra hug. One day her father will love JD she hoped. Right now he was somewhere between toleration and lukewarm much to his own disappointment. He did begrudgingly admit he admired the commitment he had been doing to showing up to his delivery job, planning for college, and continuing to see the therapist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Dad. I’ll make sure.” He rumpled his paper and absently went back to his breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him… if he needs help with the bank to let me know,” he said, reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will!” She called as she rushed out the door. She slid into his car and kissed him. He just expected his normal hello kiss but she pulled him in for a better one. “Happy Birthday!” He relaxed into a smile. He could get used to a greeting like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There aren’t going to be balloons at my locker, are there?” He asked, nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh stop it. I wouldn’t go that far. Take your pancakes and chocolate chip muffins.” She handed him the Tupperware and the basket of goodies and he took one. He blinked in shock before smiling as he bit into it and drove with his other hand. He may be acting like mister grumpy pants about his birthday but Veronica could tell he didn’t really hate being fussed over by her. “Mom and Dad say happy birthday too. He said he can help you on Monday if there’s trouble with the bank.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“He did?” He asked, still surprised he was willing to help him or that he would send him birthday wishes. The man still side-eyed him uncomfortably anytime he came to pick Veronica up. They weren’t adversarial-- JD’ll probably never forget that moment at their first meeting when he had his outburst over whether Veronica was safe with him-- but they weren’t exactly chummy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep telling you: he doesn’t hate you quite as much as you think he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hrmmm,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s making an effort, okay?” He polished off his muffin before pulling into the school. He parked the car and turned to her. They had some time before class started and only a handful of other students trickled into the parking lot. He smiled and grabbed his breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you made me pancakes and sausages. And loaded them up with maple syrup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, mom told me what to do. She gave me the family secret: read the directions on the mix box and follow them.” She watched as he scarfed them down and lightly snorted as he laughed. It caused her to laugh too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had birthday pancakes… well, in a long time.” Happiness at his happiness and lightness filled her. She looked at him, really looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So this was JD at eighteen years old. He didn’t look much different than he did at seventeen, but there was a difference in the way he carried himself in general, that was for sure. An easier way he smiled, and occasionally not just at her. He was still JD, all big tough guy-- even though she got exiled by Heather C back in September few would mess with her, still in fear of him-- but no longer someone she feared would make the wrong choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His use of violence was even at the minimum too. Heck, those few fights at the beginning of the school year pretty much scared away most of the usual suspects from dicking around with him as well. Luckily Kurt and Ram had largely stayed out of their way since their last confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she should have realized that even though they had fixed themselves and the bullies had largely kept away for a while, it was only a matter of time when they would rear their ugly head. It was like Westerberg as a whole was always meant to implode on itself. And just because Kurt and Ram hadn’t gone out of their way to hurt JD they still hadn’t forgotten the insult to their pack status and the fact that he had “moved in” on a girl that they felt they had the exclusive rights to-- despite said girl’s own wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Heather Chandler would never forget any person that made her not feel like the most desirable person to be or to fuck.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After school they sat in his basement room. They ordered a pizza and they had both had a very large chunk of the Fudgie she had brought over. They had made a quick pit stop at her house to grab it as well as her party outfit and another change of clothes for the morning… as well as the bustier set to put on. He eyed the bag curiously. She had yet to tell him that she had arranged a way of her sleeping over-- so it could be a surprise. She also had really kept mum on the outfit she had for him to see her in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were laughing as they cuddled up on the couch in the basement left over from eons ago when it was a family room. They were lounging in post-cake bliss after JD had packaged the rest of the cake away in his freezer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm… do we have to go to this party?” He asked as his grip on her tightened and his cold lips from the ice cream cake touched her neck. She shivered and squealed as she wiggled out of his arms not trusting her body not to give into his manipulations to get out of their night of socializing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I promised Heather. It’ll be fun. I promise.” She got up and went to her bag. She reached in and pulled out a wrapped package. He looked at her shocked. She curled up next to him as he stared at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?”He asked, shocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a present. We humans tend to exchange tokens of affection when the day of our birth occurs.” He still looked at her, disbelieving. She smiled nervously. “Open it. I want to know what you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You didn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. Just like you’ll end up getting me one in April. Now open it! The suspense is killing me!” He laughed as he ripped into the wrapping paper.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You got it for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but-” He stared at the book and then looked up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you- I lost my copy in the fight back in September,” he told her, genuinely touched. She smiled at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open it up.” He did. She had inscribed the cover for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For my love JD,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think we both managed to keep our souls clean this time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your love,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Veronica</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled wistfully, before leaning over to tenderly kiss her. “Thank you. For everything,” he said seriously. “Although what do you mean, ‘this time?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed his hand and looked away. “Nothing really. I was just thinking about how different things could have gone this year and… it doesn’t matter. I just want you to know that you’re loved and you’re a good person.” He kissed her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” he told her. “I know I get grumpy and it’s hard for me to express my gratitude properly but I do love everything you did for me today. Thank you.” She jumped up and grabbed her duffle bag and headed to the bathroom before they ended up giving in to the moment and they never ended up going out. Besides, Veronica had all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> planned out for later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go get changed and ready before we leave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really need to change in the bathroom?” He called to her. “It's not like I haven’t seen you naked before!” He teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing my makeup and stuff,” she responded. What she was really doing was slipping into the bustier she purchased underneath said party outfit. God, she had no idea how she managed to hide it from her mother. She had tried it on last night locked in her room, double checking how it made her feel and she loved it. He was going to love it. It was going to be a special night for both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather had honest to god actually managed to slip her some handcuffs-- and a working key as well-- much to her embarrassment as they changed for gym class earlier. She still wasn’t sure if it was something she wanted but she thought they could discuss it later. Heather had made her read a recent Cosmo article about communication on what you wanted sexually with your partner. Evidently, it was of paramount importance-- men not being mind readers and vice versa-- and she wanted to know if it was something that might interest him. His interest might make her interested. She wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d even be into her handcuffing him to the bed. She kind of realized that might be something she’d like to try but wanted to hear his thoughts. Communication-- it was key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In about an hour they were sitting in his car parked outside of Charlie Sandusky’s family property. There wasn’t so much of a driveway as there just was dirt on the side to park and a bunch of other cars were already parked there. She already saw a bunch of other people heading in with cases of beer and a keg. Heather had always said it was best to arrive a few minutes after the party had started. Which one? Well… all the Heathers actually. The party never really started until at least one of them showed up anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got out JD leaned against the door of his car as Veronica came around to lead him in. Once the sugar rush of their cake and the warmth of the emotional moment had been had he realized he desperately had one other important need. He had been staring at her lasciviously ever since she had emerged from the bathroom clad in her very finest pair of high boots, black stockings, mini skirt, and blue halter top. Her hair was piled on her head-- he was desperate to remove the pins and watch it tumble around her face-- and she had on some makeup but not a ton. She had once tried to explain to her this odd idea that the point of wearing makeup was to look like you weren’t wearing any and his eyes went a little cross eyed. Regardless, she was looking extremely sexy that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had already told her she looked hot when she did the customary twirl and, “how do I look?” but in the moonlight, standing outside Charlie Sandusky’s party he really felt the need to tug her back to his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we have to go to this thing?” He pulled her by the hands playfully back towards the car. “Don’t I get a say? Thought I was the birthday boy.” She laughed, glad to see him finally embracing the milestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun. We don’t have to stay long, and I promised Heather we’d put in an appearance. Kyle wanted you to come too. Martha's here and I can't leave her. Oh! And I told Jeff to come. Who knows? Maybe he will. Besides, I’m dressed for partying.” With a sexy resolve she didn’t know she had, she got closer to him and placed her hands on his chest before gently whispering in his ear. “Besides, you’ve got one more birthday gift Mr. Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” He asked, curious. “And what would that be?” She nipped his ear with her teeth causing a thrill of arousal through his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find out after the party.” She continued her fun with his earlobe as she dropped part of the surprise. He was completely puddy in her arms. “I’ll give you a hint: I told my parents I was sleeping at Heather’s tonight so I can stay over with you.” Heat flashed through him as he realized he’d spend the first night of his eighteenth year with her sleeping-- most likely-- undressed in his arms. He turned her head and dropped his mouth onto hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there a reason to wait then?” Her body perked. She was very aware of what she was wearing under her clothes and she was starting to wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe the party wasn’t-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God you two! You’re like cats in heat sometimes!” Heather Mac shouted and they split apart laughing. He put his arm around her waist. “I’m already covering for her to sleep over with you tonight. You can wait until then surely!” Veronica laughed as she let Heather pull her out of JD’s arms and towards the party. She turned and flashed him one quick smile as Heather dragged her away. “JD, can you get some of those tapes in your car? Kyle’s setting up the music and says you have better mix tapes than they do. Oh! And no arguing! I’m getting your girlfriend shots!” JD ruefully laughed as he opened his car door to get the tapes as Heather took her away chanting, “shots, shots, shots, shots!” He relented, knowing he could wait as his body pleasantly hummed from whatever she was planning that night. She really had gone out of her way to make his 18th birthday special, he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s here? Where’s Martha?” Heather squealed as they walked into the house. Veronica was loving the new look Heather had taken to. She was in jeans and a t-shirt but her hair was still immaculately maintained with yellow ribbons. It was this adorable casual happy thing that still managed to look decidedly perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna love it! I gave her the best makeover. All the boys are already asking about her.” Veronica was excited and scanned the house. “Even the ones who go to our school! Like, seriously, give a girl a little makeover and they act like it’s Clark Kent and Superman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica nearly floored herself. Heather was an artist. Standing at what passed for a snack table nibbling on peanuts was her best friend since diapers Martha Dunstock… and she looked hot as hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather had given her sandy brown hair a permanent wave and it framed her round face like a halo. Her makeup was expertly applied to show off her beautiful blue eyes and the bright red lipstick made her look stunning. And her clothes! Heather had gone through her closet, she explained, and found nothing that afternoon she approved of. In a bolt of inspiration she asked about a trunk in the corner. It was her mom’s old clothes from the 60s and 70s. When Veronica and her were little they were their playing dress up clothes. Mrs. Dunstock had been about the same size as her daughter back then and Heather was in love. She found a delightful baby pink long sleeved baby doll dress that hugged all of Martha’s curves perfectly. She looked like a whole new person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whole new person that was talking with a very tall and lanky long-haired boy in a Creedence Clearwater t-shirt and -- was she?-- throwing her flirt on. She waved at the other girls and excused herself from the boy to greet them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, so who is that?” Veronica asked, excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe. He graduated from Jefferson last year. He works for the county now doing road work. He says ‘man’ a lot.” She laughed. Veronica couldn’t be more happier for her. “And he keeps staring at my chest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get his number.” Martha looked shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll see. You look really great tonight too. How’d JD like the book? And his first Fudgie?” Veronica laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He loved it. Both of them. He’s futzing with the music with Kyle evidently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather handed Veronica a lime and salt to go with the tequila. “Veronica! On the count of three!” Veronica eyed it wearily, remembering how the last time she’d done shots with Heather Mac ended-- her puking on Heather Chandler’s shoes and breaking into JD’s room demanding sexual favors-- so she limited herself to just one for the moment learning to pace herself. They both laughed at the burning sensation as they tossed the lime in the trash and walked up to wear the keg and waited for them to finish getting it tapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soooo….” Heather asked. “Inquiring minds want to know. Are you wearing it?” She nudged her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah Veronica, are you?” Martha asked as they stood in line. Martha grabbed a Diet Coke from some soda cans-- she presumed were intended for mixers-- in a cooler committed to her non-drinking life. Veronica danced back and forth, suddenly self conscious of the pale blue corset and matching panties with straps holding up her pantyhose that she knew for a fact her blouse and skirt covered up perfectly. Still, it was quite possibly the most scandalous article of clothing she’d ever worn-- and to a party!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said quickly and quietly. The other girls laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he know?” She shook her head. She had no idea where the impetus to tease him a few moments ago had come from. Heather squealed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll lose his mind. Trust me.” Veronica nervously agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so. What about you?” Veronica quickly changed the subject away from her scandalous undergarments to her own sex life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or lack thereof. It turns out that her and her boyfriend of nearly six months had never sealed the deal. A little rounding the corner to third base, but never the home run. She had asked why a few months back when she told her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise to keep it a secret?” She had told her as they were holed up in the library during third period study hall. Heather had been desperate to talk about it, apparently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” She had looked around nervously. “Tell me anything. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a-- you know--” her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Virgin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Veronica said. “And you’re, like… really not.” Heather dramatically hushed her. “It’s not a disease Heather! He is seventeen after all, it’s not like a super surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. And he knows that too. He seems… okay with the fact that I have. A lot. I never lied to him about it. But he did seem a little overwhelmed by it.” She shrugged. “I think I thought at first that’s why he wanted to go out with me. I mean, that’s why a lot of guys do. I’m, you know, ‘easy.’” Veronica chided her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate that expression. We all need to stop using those kinds of hurtful insults. I’ve only been with one guy but it was all of two minutes after I met him. Does that make me easy too?” Heather shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway. He said he wanted to wait. Make it special. I don’t know. It felt… nice. Like, he wants to date me for me. He was thoroughly impressed by my high Ms. Pacman score and stuff. He thinks it’s funny and cute when I say something airheaded. He can do that too.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh my god. Heather. You really like him. For him. And he really likes you. For you.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What does that mean?” She asked, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only done it once so I’m not sure if I’m an expert, but I think it means you’re falling in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she said, dumbstruck. “I think I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back at the party Veronica nudged her. “So, you two are finally gonna do it tonight?” Heather got the two red solo cups from the stack and started filling hers up than Veronica’s after the kids ahead of her finished up. The music came on suddenly and loudly in the house meaning JD had gotten the tapes to Kyle. She smiled. He did love the Violent Femmes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls walked towards the empty couch and chairs in the living room and took up residences staking their claim on the corner at the beginning of the party. Heather Mac understood such things. “Yup. We are all set. I’ve been teasing him for a bit all day about it, might bring him upstairs and lock the door behind me and- Eek!” From behind her Kyle’s arm draped over her. She moved so he could sit and she could sit on his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Got you some of the house special.” She put her beer down and eyed the mystery cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a secret.” She gingerly took a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuck. That’s disgusting!” She didn’t stop drinking it though. He laughed. Veronica turned her eyes to the door. Awkwardly standing at the entrance was Jeff in jeans and a Lord of the Rings shirt looking extremely out of place. She waved at him. Relieved he made his way to the girls and Kyle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So worried I’d get lost in the dark. I had to walk. My parents would murder me if they knew I went to a party. They think I’m with the youth group’s bowling outing. They never follow up on that stuff though. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Murder you for going to a party?” Kyle asked, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, murder is a mortal sin,” he considered. “But they’d probably just make me go to more bible study on the weekdays. I already have to go twice. They also have this thing about speaking in tongues to repent demons or something. I don't know. It gets weird. I'm not into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. I mean, literally,” Kyle said. Jeff actually laughed at the joke. The most church Kyle ever got was once every couple of months when his dad would drop by and make them all go visit their Presbyterian grandmother in Michigan. She'd get mad that their mother didn't take them to any church and curse her out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re Pentecostal now. I liked it better when they were plain Methodists. The Pentecostal's don’t really fuck around with the fire and brimstone stuff though. You should see the book they got about how D&amp;D teaches you real spells. They’re very concerned. They take that shit so seriously now.” He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, if you could learn real spells from D&amp;D I would be all over that shit magic missling anyone I saw.” They laughed. Jeff looked proud he got a laugh from the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be worse. Could be fundamentalist Mormons. They have that blood atonement stuff. That shit’s crazy. Ever hear about that one cult leader that used that to send his followers out to murder people? Ervil LeBaron? The ‘Morman Manson’ they called him. Sent his followers to murder his family members and anyone who tried to defect from his cult. Even kept directing them to go for it from behind jail. Crazy stuff.” Heather’s eyes looked tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, please, not your fascination with cults tonight,” Heather asked him, weary of knowing that he’d rant on them for hours if she didn’t stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. Drinks are at the front man. Five dollars buy in for the keg though,” he told Jeff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t pay,” Veronica said, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls always drink for free. So yeah,” he told Jeff, “unless you want to make the girls get you drinks. Which, you know, is a strategy but not one I recommend. It pisses Charlie off.” Jeff nodded understanding it best not to rock the system and took out his velcro wallet and walked up to the keg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, surprised you got out,” JD told him warmly as he saw him at the keg. He was actually really surprised he came out, but also touched. He doubted a kid like Jeff had ever been to a party like this before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica said it was your eighteenth,” he told him as if it was obligatory. JD was in the process of handing over his five spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t, it’s your birthday. I’ll get you,” Jeff told him as he handed two fives to the gentleman in charge of taking the money. Jeff did the math in his head. Two kegs-- five bucks a head for roughly 25 guys at the party… He realized it was a bit of a profit. Not having really been to these things-- and knowing the lore of fights and drugs-- he kept mum on the subject and acquiesced to paying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, birthday?” The slightly nerdy skinny dude with shoulder length blonde hair, glasses, and the Zeppelin shirt said as he looked up. “What are you? Eighteen?” JD nodded. “Nah man, drinks are free for a birthday. Especially eighteen, man. Enjoy it. Twenty-one just means you have to be the beer bitch for everyone like me.” He had a nice smile and pointed at Jeff. “Great shirt man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, thanks,” he said a bit nervously. JD looked back and forth at the two guys and thought perhaps... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, maybe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He decided not to say anything. This was Ohio after all. Thankfully they all had brewskies in their hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” JD said as he put his money away and Jeff handed over just one five. The guy waved it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you too. Guy who tried to pay for his friend’s drinks means you get a pass too.” Jeff hesitantly felt warm and smiled. JD and him both got drinks and a few moments later JD plopped down next to Veronica. She handed him the extra shot of tequila she had grabbed for him. “Thank you,” he told her as he put his beer on the coffee table and she swung her legs over his lap and his warm free hand slipped under her skirt and up her stockinged thigh-- not too high-- in a familiar and welcomed manner. She had dressed for a party-- not February after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked at Martha Dunstock looking like a different person. Not a bad one, and definitely a more confident one. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to say anything so he didn’t. “I drink this,” he told Martha instead, “with the extra promise that you will not harm a dent on that beautiful creature parked outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good god babe. Sometimes I wonder if you love that thing as much as you love me,” Veronica teased. She knew he didn’t but she liked teasing him about it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I have known it longer,” he quipped back. She slanted her eyes and slapped him playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m joking!” He laughed. “I’m joking! I love you more!” She leaned in and kissed him. She knew he was just teasing but it was so much fun to play with him like this. Normal. She looked around at her friends with cheap drinks in their hands lounging on sofas in a house party with the faint smell of marijuana and JD’s tapes blaring over the sound system. So blissfully normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better,” she responded. The mood was relaxed and everyone was having a good time. “Babe, I think Martha will drive it even better than you do. It might actually come out of this night with a longer life.” They laughed. “Now, I say we have one toast to the birthday boy.” He ducked his head, still feeling embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers!” They all said, clinking their cups-- and in Martha’s case a soda can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Eighteen. I get confused every day</em>,” they all groaned as Kyle started singing the Alice Cooper song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it! I hate that song!” JD moaned as he also laughed. Veronica grabbed his hands away from his ears, wanting to torture him. He was very cute tortured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Eighteen, I just don't know what to say</em>,” Jeff now started it too, surprisingly knowing the words. Kyle pointed to him in appreciation and they got louder. “<em>Eighteen, I gotta get away. Lines form on my face and my hands." </em></span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>"Lines form on the left and right</em>,” Heather and Martha chimed in. “<em>I'm in the middle, the middle of life!</em>” Veronica leaned in and joined in too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not you too,” he moaned at her in laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>I'm a boy and I'm a man. I'm eighteen and I like it!</em>” They all laughed as they ended the sing along-- to a few smatterings of claps-- and drank. Jeff blanched-- this was clearly his first sip of beer. No one called him out on it though to make fun. None of them were about that life. If it had been a Kurt Kelly kegger they definitely would have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay… thank you,” he told them. He really was begrudgingly enjoying this new life of his. He had a pretty girlfriend on his lap that he was madly in love with-- and vice versa-- and friends that seemed to care about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Birthday! What? I’ll get you some shots man!” The mysterious Justin-- Kyle’s older brother who formerly inhabited JD’s basement-- said as he waltzed in with a girl in a leather coat and slip dress by his side. Her curly hair was long and untreated. She was stunning, like she was Annabeth Gish or something. Veronica had never met his older brother. He had graduated high school the year before they were freshmen. He was tall and lanky with sandy hair like his brother, but owing to being older he had filled out more. He was kind of handsome too and had longer hair and a leather jacket on. He also had a guitar. She had been warned in advance that at some point he was likely to start playing it before the night was over. He did side eye Heather a bit, still not believing a girl like that was dating his dorky younger brother and slightly worried there was some ulterior motive for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is JD,” he told Justin. “He’s the guy who moved into your basement.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face lit up. “Ah, the old pad. You like the beads I left behind? That place was tight, I’ll tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I made him leave all that junk behind,” the girl-- his girlfriend presumably-- said. “I feel like I just told you, ‘here, you throw this out.’” They laughed. She was surprisingly really cool. Veronica instantly wanted to be everything like her when she was 21 like them. Her clothes, her attitude, all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thanks for leaving the TV, fridge, and bed and stuff. Saved me money,” he told them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes… that bed,” he chuckled. His girlfriend hit him and threw her hands up exasperated. JD blanched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god I did splurge on new sheets,” JD just told him sardonically. There was laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For later,” Justin said as he handed Kyle a small plastic bag with a six joints in it. “It’s your buddy’s birthday. Just don’t let mom smell it on you. She yells at me for that shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, thanks so much man.” Kyle pocketed it. Justin turned to JD.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one with the better tapes, right?” He asked JD with an eye of appreciation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Righteous. We’ve gotta get our shit together to move to Chicago or LA or something. The scene around here is-- as they say-- as expected.” The couple moved to another side of the house where some of the older attendees were hanging out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff sat there desperately trying not to look like it was the first time he had ever seen marijuana being passed around. This time last week he had awkwardly sat at the youth group’s mixer in his church’s basement as some girl blathered on to him about her fear that sparkly pens were satanic and if she should repent using them. “I’m gonna get a refill.” Veronica eyed him surprised he’d already finished his first beer. She was actually a little hopeful he’d get looser at a party like this. Martha got up too for another soda… and the tall guy-- Joe-- with the Creedence Clearwater shirt she’d been chatting up previously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was beginning to get loose. She liked that tipsy JD was just very handsy-- his fingers were going higher up her skirt and she had to move the hand down a few times not wanting him to spoil his later surprise. He was also slightly goofy about music. Dead Kennedys “California Uber Alles” came on the speakers and he started to drum on his leg and sing along with Kyle who was also getting looser. Heather smiled as she leaned down and kissed her boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica and JD laughed as the other two were distracted. “Looks like Jeff made a friend,” she said as she watched him laugh and talk with the guy with the Zeppelin shirt at the keg. “Hmmm… should we see if there are any girls he might want to talk to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let it be Veronica,” he said. He hoped he was reading the situation with the two guys but it was difficult. He knew enough to understand they couldn’t be too obvious but he was hopeful for his sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying matchmake but-” He squeezed her leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s happy to be talking to who he’s talking to,” JD told her, unsure if he needed-- or had the right-- to outright tell her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand. He does like girls-” she looked over and saw the body language of Jeff and the other dude. The other guy was laughing and when he did he playfully pushed Jeff. They both got awkward after. It suddenly clicked. “Oh! You mean-?” JD reluctantly nodded. “Oh. Ohhhh.” Veronica was surprised. She had never met a gay person before at Westerberg. Well, other than the fake gay couple the crueler first time around Veronica and JD had created as revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She now realized she had never known if there were any actual students in school who were. It hadn’t occurred to her. She realized she-- like many others of her world-- had just assumed straight was the default option. She resolved to try and be more open about it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked JD.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t my thing to tell,” he told her honestly. “Don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have confirmed it to you. He doesn’t want his folks finding out. They’d flip out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not. I’m sorry I pestered it out of you.” She leaned in and kissed him. “You’re a really good friend,” she told him as she leaned in and kissed him. They gave in to a lingering kiss and his hand was getting further and further up her thigh. She grabbed it and stopped it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here!” She giggled. He just pouted playfully and finished his beer cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone?” Kyle asked a few moments later as he held up the joint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, a bit later,” Veronica said. Heather agreed. JD looked at her as if asking if it was all right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need my permission. You’re the birthday boy. Go for it. I just want to finish this first. We’ll probably join you in a few minutes.” He reached out and kissed her as she detangled herself from his lap. She held the kiss for a bit longer. She left a lovely goofy look on his face as he got up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at Martha throw that flirt around! I hope she gets a number,” Heather said as they watched her laugh and touch the guy’s arm. He was into her too. His eyes were drifting all up and down her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same.” She smiled as she watched her best friend have fun. She deserved it. “Thank you for helping her doll up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She deserves it.” She sipped her beer and got a smidgen serious. “At first it was because I felt guilty. I mean, I made fun of her just as much as Heather and Heather did but… I actually think she’s a cool person. She showed me her Disney statue collection. It’s actually pretty impressive. I mean- oh no, what the hell are those jerks doing here?” Heather said as she noticed some familiar ghosts at the party. Heather’s mood was instantly shattered and Veronica went to look in her direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kurt and Ram had just made an entrance at the party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were completely perplexed. This was hardly a kegger at the football team’s house. Kurt and Ram or any football player would never be caught dead at Charlie Sandusky’s annual party in the outskirts of town. It was a farmhouse party. On an actual farm. Their lot called these parties “bumblehick parties.” Veronica got a very nasty pit in her stomach that had nothing to do with the minor amount of alcohol she had consumed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ignore them. They must think it’s fun to ‘slum it,’” Veronica quipped, using air quotes. “They’ll get bored and leave when they realize they are out of their depths and several of the guys here have records.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re right. Ugh, I have to pee,” Heather told her as she got up and made her way to the bathroom. “I hate breaking the seal though.” Veronica assured her she’d save her seat. She sat back and sipped on her beer </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey ‘Ronica. How’s the party?” Kurt Kelly said as he plopped down on the couch on one side of her. He was staring at her skirt. You could just see the tops of her hose where it connected to the straps. Consciously aware Veronica scooched, trying to lower her skirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do shots with us!” Ram Sweeney said as he plopped down on the other side of her trapping her between them. “You were such a fun time last time we partied,” he chuckled. Her stomach plummeted. He had a big bottle of tequila and some cups. He poured one in all three cups. She tried to figure out her escape but their large bodies caged her in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, can’t you leave me alone? I’m here with JD,” she said, hoping the threat of her boyfriend-- the one that had beaten them up-- would be a good one for them to have their drinks, fail with the older girls, and go home to their true loves: their right hand’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, do one shot with us. Just one. We’ll go away then.” Veronica wanted to just get them away from her so she could return to having a good night. As much as she wanted to know where JD was she also wanted him to stay away. The last thing they needed was to cap his eighteenth off with him being the dude who got into a fight at Charlie Sandusky’s party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, she took the cup that Kurt held out for her. “Fine. One shot. One, two, three.” They all drank their cups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last thing she remembered that night before waking up in JD’s shirt and bed at ten AM the next morning with the most concerned look on his face she’d ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, you’re awake. Thank god,” JD told her.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is why I carried the story on. I wanted to conclude the stuff with Kurt, Ram, and Heather C. I did not forget about their conflict.</p><p>Anyway, kudos and comments if you would like.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Veronica's Sawyer's Lost Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica wakes up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay, but I was honestly caught up making sure I had the rest of the story totally mapped out (tentatively ending with chapter 27) but with enough wiggle room to take any helpful/valid critique into account.</p><p>This chapter deals with the subject of being drugged without consent, please be advised. I normally don't spoil ahead of the reading, but I want to make sure it is clear that no non-consensual relations happen if you are worried about that and don't wish to encounter that storyline rest assured that is not what we are dealing with. My tags, advisories, and warnings are all up to snuff. That being said, the experience is frightening and real even if assault does not occur. And I don't want to ignore the severity and unfortunate reality of it.</p><p>This story takes place in 1990 when it was not yet a common discussion point and I wanted to stay true to the characters and what their experience in a situation like that might be. Also, this story uses Rophynol (where the term "roofie" came from) as the drug of choice, but it is more common to be GHB these days.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeny pulled up in Kurt’s Land Rover to the party at Charlie Sandusky’s house. “Gross,” Kurt said. “I hope we can at least get some brewskies or something to make up for the fact that we had to give up our Friday night to be seen at this loser party.”</p><p>“Whatever. We made a deal,” Ram said as he grabbed the bottle of tequila they had been passing back and forth since the night had begun and took a slug of it. “You got the baggie and the cameras?” Kurt held them up. “She better be here.”</p><p>“That’s his shit car,” Kurt told him as they spotted JD’s car parked a few feet away.</p><p>“Crap, we better not let him see us.” They watched the door and saw JD and Kyle leave the house to go around the back. Ram slapped his friend’s chest. “Come on, they just left to smoke some weed. She’s not with them.” They exited the car and entered the party.</p><p>They both felt completely out of their element. Around them were people who already graduated high school and the kind of kids that didn’t go to football games or even care about them. It didn’t matter. They had been given a task to do and they were going to do it. They scanned the party and saw Heather McNamara and Veronica Sawyer talking on some of the couches all by themselves.</p><p>“Check out the hot chick in the corner,” Ram said pointing at a strawberry blonde girl with curly hair talking to some loser in a Creedence Clearwater Revival shirt. He whispered something in her ear and she laughed. His hand was on her arm. Kurt burst into laughter.</p><p>“Yo, dude, that’s fucking Martha Dumptruck.” Kurt told him.</p><p>“Fuck, it is,” Ram said shocked and embarrassed. “Shut up, I’ve been drinking.” </p><p>“Wanna go make out with her again?” He sniggered.</p><p>“That was fucking once, asshole. In Kindergarten. Gross. Come on, let’s get some cups and get this over with.” Kurt and Ram walked up to the drink station. They reached over to get the red cups when the guy in charge stopped him.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey guys. You know the rules: five bucks a head,” Tony-- the guy in charge of the keg-- told them, annoyed he’d been interrupted talking to the nice good-looking guy in the Lord of the Rings shirt he’d just met. Kurt and Ram stared back in mockery.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Ram countered. Football keggers never required members of the team to chip in for the keg. </p><p>“Give him the money Ram,” Jeff supplied, finding some confidence to speak up to the princes of pricktitude at Westerberg high-- aided by the dose of Dutch courage that the moderate amount of alcohol he'd drank gave him, not to mention the instinctive behavior to show off a bit in front of this guy he was talking to. “Five bucks a head. That’s how it works here.” Kurt stared back at Jeff in surprise. He wasn’t used to seeing the guy outside of school. <em> What the hell is this twerp doing here? </em></p><p>“Here, take it,” Ram said, shoving ten bucks in their face. Just as Tony was about to take it Kurt dropped it on the ground. “Oops,” he said, not meaning it. The two laughed and took their cups and beers and moved on.</p><p>“Asses,” Tony muttered under his breath as he grabbed the money and added it to the fund. Jeff eyed them warily but turned back to the conversation with his new friend. There was no use worrying about those POS’s at the moment.</p><p>They spotted Heather McNamara leaving Veronica all by her lonesome and they seized the opportunity to accomplish their goal for the night. “Get the cup ready,” Kurt told Ram. He prepared the drink and without asking permission they plopped down next to Veronica caging her into the couch.</p>
<hr/><p>Veronica sighed and blanched slightly as she downed the liquor. “There, fine. Happy? Now leave me alone. JD’s probably looking for me,” she told them in some strange attempt to threaten them with her boyfriend. </p><p>They didn’t get up though. She stood up. "Fine, I'll let you two have the couch." The drug didn’t take too long to set in. Veronica tried to stand to get away from them and blinked and looked woozy. “What-?” she said, her head starting to nod back and forth and blink. She tried putting her cup on the coffee table in front of her but it spilled over. “Sorry… why…” She had trouble feeling the ground under her feet. “What- why is the room-?” She barely noticed Kurt and Ram picking her up and she just went with them as they dragged her along, held up by her arms. It was the queerest feeling to her. She just couldn’t tell what was really going on. “JD?” She asked blearily. “Where is he? I feel really yucky guys.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s okay ‘Ronica, we got you,” Kurt said as they made their way through the party goers. A crowd of people were crowded around a guy playing a guitar and a girl singing next to him near the backdoor. They were blocking the direct route up to one of the rooms. “Fuck.” They turned her to try and go another route.</p><p>“Where’s JD?” She mumbled again. “Tell him I don’t feel so good.” Her arms and legs were like jelly and they struggled to keep her upright. She attempted to struggle against them but she had no strength in her to do so.</p><p>“We’re, uh, taking you to him, okay?” Ram told her as they kept moving her. "You just partied a bit too hard."</p><p>“What the- I didn’t drink that much…” Veronica drowsily insisted.</p><p>Kurt and Ram walked her past Jeff who was still at the keg with Tony chatting.</p><p>“Yeah, if you want, I guess it could be cool to find a new group to play with,” Jeff told him, trying to keep his excitement level to aloof and ultra cool-- he was well aware of how well that had worked for JD in getting Veronica and hoped he could mimic it himself for his own tentative endeavors-- after he was invited to hang out and check out Tony’s miniatures at his place in the next town over. His attention was immediately averted when he was taken aback by the sight of Veronica in the arms of the two meatheads barely standing on her own. <em> She was fine when I saw her two minutes ago, barely sipping on her second drink. </em> “Hey, Veronica! You all right?” He asked, worried, noticing the very unwelcome company she had. He made an attempt to try and get to her past Kurt but was pushed back immediately, hard-- knocking him into the table and losing his footing.</p><p>“Stay out of this fags-a-lot,” Kurt told him, barely caring about the others around him. There were murmurs in protest from the others at the party-- it wasn’t a crowd as tolerant to such behavior.</p><p>“Yo! What the hell, man!” Tony cried as he reached down to help Jeff up. Kurt and Ram just pushed past with Veronica in their grasp. “Jesus,” he told Jeff, “you know those pricks?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jeff said anxiously. “And they’re bothering my friend’s girlfriend. Something’s not right, she wouldn’t be going with them voluntarily. I gotta go find him, sorry.”</p><p>“No, no. Go,” Tony told Jeff, looking on concerned.</p><p>Jeff just pushed passed some of the revelers searching for JD.</p>
<hr/><p>JD was outside having a few tokes and laughs with Kyle before leaving him to go to the wooded area to take a piss. It seemed a lot of the other guys were doing that to avoid clogging the line at the bathroom inside. Kyle headed in to find Heather. As he was making his way to the back area, some dude made an offer to sell him shrooms, but JD declined. He wanted to have fun tonight, not end up underneath his bed convinced the fridge wanted to eat him. He liked the nice light headed feeling of being a little drunk and stoned in a social setting but that was about it. He never could quite understand why his father had liked the feeling of being so piss drunk he couldn’t even remember it in the morning. </p><p>When his call to nature was taken care of he went inside to find his girlfriend. The whole night and party was actually fun, he realized. He had never really done this, he realized at any of the schools he’d been at. It was strange for him to really understand he had a group, even if it was a mishmash of his friends, his girlfriend’s friends or their significant others. They had gathered briefly around him to wish him a happy birthday and he realized it had honestly touched him. She really was special and he was lucky he had met her.</p><p>He checked his watch. It was still early-- only eight-- and he figured they’d try and be out before midnight. He smiled remembering her flirtatious promise from earlier. She never ceased to surprise him in that department ever since their first night when she’d shown up in his room demanding sexual favors, that was for sure. He actually enjoyed letting her take the lead. He glanced around the living room where most of the guests were lounging, or talking as the music played-- his tapes had been a hit. While they were outside. He spotted Heather Mac and Kyle cuddled up on one of the couches with some of his older friends. He threw a peanut in the air up high and Heather caught it in her mouth to the cheers of those watching.</p><p>“See guys? I told you she was talented,” he told them proudly.</p><p>“Aw. You’re the sweetest,” she said going in for a kiss.</p><p>JD broke them up. “Sorry to interrupt the Algonquin Round Table happening over here but have you guys seen Veronica? I can’t find her.” Heather looked around confused, she hadn’t been on the couch when she got back from the bathroom earlier. </p><p>“I thought she went to find you. That’s weird. The bathroom maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
“You talking about that cute brunette in the mini skirt with the nice rack you were with?” One of the older guys asked as he played quarters against another guy. JD wasn’t really keen on having another dude refer to his girlfriend that way but that wasn’t the point right now.</p><p>“Yeah, my girlfriend,” he emphasized. “Have you seen her?”</p><p>“Oh, uh,” he said, suddenly realizing he had spoken out of turn, “those two weird preps that randomly came were leading her upstairs. She looked kind of out of it to be honest.” JD’s hackles were raised as were Heather’s. </p><p>Heather got startled. “Preps? Oh my god. JD, Veronica and I saw Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney show up. I shouldn't have left her alone with them here I had no idea-”</p><p>At that moment Jeff pushed through to JD out of breath. “Hey, upstairs. I just saw Kurt and Ram with Veronica. Something was up with her. Her head was bobbed down and they were pulling her up the stairs,” he told JD out of breath. "She looks wasted, but like she barely had anything to drink tonight."</p><p>Instantly sober and with fear coursing through him he started to make his way up the stairs, two at a time. Heather followed behind him.</p>
<hr/><p>Kurt and Ram had finally made their way upstairs with Veronica and found an empty room and closed the door behind them. It looked like it was Charlie Sandusky's parents room by the bland decoration. “Veronica," Kurt told her as they let go of her. "Get on the bed, you’ll feel better.” She did as she was told, unable to do anything other than comply, and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head felt dizzy and it was hard to keep focus on anything.</p><p>“JD?" She asked blearily. "Where is he? Tell him I want to go home.” She groaned. “JD? Where is he?”</p><p>“Shit there’s no lock on this door,” Ram said. He just put his weight against it. “Better do this quickly before that psycho realizes we’re up here with her. You got the camera?” He asked Kurt as he opened it to keep a lookout. </p><p>“Right here,” he said holding up the small disposable camera he had in his pocket. "It’s all good, let’s just see what we have here…” Kurt licked his lips in anticipation. “Hey, Veronica, can you take your top off?” Without hesitation she did. He was shocked, he had been told the drug he had given her would make her agree to anything but he was surprised at how well it worked.</p><p>“Woah! Jackpot!” His eyes bugged like a cartoon character at the sight of her in a blue corset. “Who the hell knew Veronica Sawyer was such a freak!” Ram turned to see what he was talking about and his eyes bugged out as well.</p><p>“Oh man, this’ll be better than we expected," Kurt agreed. "A free peep show and then playtime with Heather Chandler, not bad."</p><p>“Okay,” Ram said holding the door with one hand and the camera with the other. “Pose with her so it looks like she’s giving you a bj or a handy or something.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Kurt whispered in a moment of consciousness as he heard Veronica groan in confusion. “Is she okay? She’s, like, really out of it.”</p><p>“That’s what’s supposed to happen, isn’t it? Heather said to put half in, how much did you put in the cup?” Ram asked, getting worried too.</p><p>“A whole one. I mean, I didn’t want to risk it not taking.”</p><p>“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She said it just makes people… agree to things. Whatever, it should be fine. Not like this shit’s illegal, right? Let's just take the pictures and leave her,” Ram said. Kurt agreed. </p><p>“Shit, she’s hot,” Kurt whispered, arousal suddenly pumping through him as he pulled her skirt off her and saw the panties with the ribbons. “God, Is she really wearing this for that psycho fuck?” Kurt said, jealousy and the realization of why they were doing this hit him. That prick JD. Kurt had called Veronica as his ever since she walked into school looking hot as fuck back in September. Some asshole new kid doesn’t get to have what he had called dibs on.</p>
<hr/><p>Martha was lit up with joy. The boy she had been talking to since she had arrived-- Jo, who was 19 and graduated from Jefferson last year and was working for the city until he figured out what he wanted to do-- had just leaned in to tentatively kiss her. It was her first kiss and she didn’t want to miss a moment of it so she kept her eyes wide open. </p><p>Heather was right behind JD when Martha spotted them speed past her out of the peripheral. Quickly-- and to his dismay-- she tore apart from him. "I'm sorry, I thought-" He said, apologetically. Martha was worried about her friends but turned back to him.</p><p>"No! That was awesome, I just- my friend- I'm so sorry!" She called as she followed behind her friends, worried something was happening. <em>Where was Veronica?</em></p>
<hr/><p>When JD got to the room his anger was fully unleashed. He saw Ram with a camera and Kurt posing next to Veronica with his pants around his ankles, her blouse undone and her skirt off. In an instant Kurt was pinned up against the wall. In shock he dropped his camera. JD looked down and saw it and stamped on it with his foot. “What the fuck you sick perverts!” He pulled his fist back in rage and got him one clean shot in the face. Ram quickly shoved his camera in his pocket and attempted pull JD off his friend but JD kicked him from behind to the ground. </p><p>Heather wasn’t far behind him. “Oh my god, Veronica!” She tore past the boys fighting and crouched over at her friend’s side. Martha was right behind her. </p><p>“Veronica? What happened to her?” Martha asked, worried.</p><p>"She did not drink this much," Heather said, worried. She tapped Veronica's cheeks lightly to keep her conscious.</p><p>“JD?” Veronica groaned, disoriented. “Where are you? It's cold. Why is the room spinning so bad?” She then let out the most distressed whimper of pain and confusion. </p><p>Ram got to his feet unsteady and tried again to pull him off of Kurt. “Look man, we swear, just pictures! That’s all we did I swear! We didn’t touch her! ” JD’s temper was full blown. "And you, uh, you got the camera," Kurt said knowing Ram had his camera safely in the pocket of his letterman jacket.</p><p>“Oh! How noble! You just got her fucked up, naked, and took pictures of her! You deserve a medal for your restraint!” He was prepared to continue the fight when Heather interrupted him.</p><p>“JD! Murder them later! Veronica's not well. She's really out of it. We need to get her out of here! She’s dead weight, and Martha and I can barely lift her up.” He had Kurt by the shirt collar about to smash him into the wall a few times when he heard Veronica’s whimper and realized Heather was right. But his rage was still high and his need to hurt these boys-</p><p>“JD, she’s scared and wants you!” Martha told him, petrified. That broke through his anger fog.</p><p>“This isn’t over,” he hissed at the two of them. With hesitation he dropped Kurt’s shirt collar and went to attend to Veronica. Ram and Kurt hauled ass out of the room. Despite the loud music they all heard the loud screech of tires as a car tore off a few minutes later.</p><p>JD’s murderous rage temporarily subsided for a moment as Heather and Martha stepped aside and he bent down to touch Veronica’s cheek. “Babe?” He asked tenderly. “Veronica, can you hear me? It’s me. I’m right here.”</p><p>“JD? What’s going on?” she whimpered. “I can’t seem to move.” His heart broke. “Why am I so drunk? I swear I didn't drink that much.” <em> Fuck, </em> he thought, <em> they must have put something in her drink. </em></p><p>“Martha,” he started as he quickly put her top back on and got her skirt up. He had to keep his rage in check to at least get her somewhere safe. “I need to get her out of here. I- I think they gave her a drug or something." Martha gasped and JD struggled to focus on Veronica and not his anger. A moment later Kyle busted through the door.</p><p>“Yo man, I just heard Kurt and Ram saying you went crazy for no reason on them- oh fuck, is she okay?” JD took off his coat and wrapped Veronica in it, no idea where her own coat was. He gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He felt her head tenderly nestle into his neck.</p><p>"Mmm, I knew you'd find me..." She mumbled drowsily as she nodded off to sleep.</p><p>“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” He turned to their friends. “I need to get her home. They put something in her drink.”</p><p>“Oh my God.” They made their way downstairs and past all the confused and nosey party goers all dying to know what had just gone down. It was amazing, a passed out girl in his arms and the knowledge that a fight had broken out had not completely killed the party.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Kyle’s brother asked as he saw the commotion and his brother and his friends in the mix. His guitar was left in the corner from before when he was playing it and his girlfriend not far behind, looking very concerned for the girl in JD’s arms.</p><p>“What happened upstairs?” She asked, extremely concerned. "What's wrong with her?"</p><p>“Those douches that were here. The preppy ones? They slipped her a drug or something,” JD told her, trying to control his temper. “Something in a drink they gave her probably.” Her eyes went wide and she nodded.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Kyle’s brother’s girlfriend said. “I know a girl that this happened to. It’s all the rage for assholes to do this now. It’s supposed to make a girl super pliable and willing to do anything. It’s really scary awful shit. Oh god, they didn’t-”</p><p>“No. I got up there before anything like that happened,” he told her.</p><p>“Shit, you have to watch her, make sure she wakes up in the morning and she's breathing the whole night." JD nodded, knowing it unlikely he'd sleep until he knew she was okay. "She'll have the worst hangover ever and you need to keep her hydrated." He nodded more, taking note. "She’s going to be really scared too when she does wake up and can’t remember any of this.” JD clutched Veronica tight. He nodded, he had no intention of leaving her side again anytime soon. </p><p>“Martha, I need you to drive us back now,” he told her. She nodded, wide eyed and scared for her friend. “My keys are in the left pocket.” Awkwardly she reached into the deep pockets of his trench coat until she found the keys. The group of them walked out to the car.</p><p>“Where are you taking her? Home?” Heather asked, upset. <em> I only left her alone for five minutes to use the bathroom, </em> she fretted. “You can’t take her to her parents! They’ll freak out!” Heather told him as they walked out to the car. She struggled to open the passenger door. “Look, I’ll cover for her. She already told her parents she was going over to mine tonight so she could sleep over at yours, I’ll tell them we’re going to the mall and movies too. Is it locked? How does this open?”<br/>
<br/>
“Heather,” JD told her with very little patience. “You have to open the passenger door from the inside, the outside handle is broken.” She got the car opened in the convoluted way. </p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry. We can’t all fit,” JD told Jeff. “Maybe Martha can make two trips or-”</p><p>“Hey, is she all right?” The guy that Jeff was talking to-- Tony-- was outside now, concerned. </p><p>“No, those douches gave her a drug or something." Tony's eyes bulged in sympathy. He turned to JD. "You guys go. I walked here, I can walk home."</p><p>“I got my car,” Tony said. “I can give you a lift.” If this was any other situation JD would be happy for his friend to get a ride home like that. Unfortunately, his main concern was for his girlfriend.</p><p>"Thank you," JD told him as he carefully slid Veronica into the backseat and he got in beside her, cradling her against him.</p><p>"Call me in the morning to let me know that she's okay," Jeff fretted. JD nodded feeling assured by every breath Veronica took as she cradled against him. Heather got in the other side and tenderly touched her friend's head.</p><p>"I'm so sorry honey," she told her.</p><p>"It's not your fault Heather," JD told her, knowing damn well who's fault it was. Kyle got into the front seat to head back with them and Martha drove them home all of them petrified that Veronica was okay.</p>
<hr/><p>Veronica woke up Saturday morning feeling like how Daffy Duck must feel when he gets an anvil dropped on him. With a groan she opened her eyes, barely able to move.</p><p>JD was there in a heartbeat. “Hey, hey, you’re awake. Thank god.” With help JD got her into a sitting position.</p><p>“What the hell happened last night?” Her mouth felt like cotton. “Last thing--” she thought hard. “Last thing I remember is-” She gagged. “Oh god! I’m gonna be sick.” Quickly JD got her up and to the toilet where he held her hair back and she emptied what little contents her stomach had. When she was done, he helped her up and gave her water to wash out with. “I don’t remember drinking that much. JD seriously, I’m sorry.” He sighed as he took her back to his bed to lay in. He poured her a large glass of water and forced her to drink it all. She downed it in one gulp and he refilled it and handed her two Tylenol.</p><p>“You didn’t.” It was taking Veronica a lot longer than she realized to remember something-- anything-- about that night. She did remember some things from earlier in the night. She remembered getting t o the party, teasing him, having a tequila shot with-</p><p>“Kurt and Ram. They were bothering me and I did a shot with them to make them go away. That’s the last thing I remember.” Panic and dread flooded her body.  She looked down and realized JD had given her one of his shirts to wear, and she had nothing on underneath it.</p><p>“Um, JD, did you…?” He went to his dresser and showed her the bustier and underwear that she’d been wearing under her clothes stacked next to her outfit from last night. She sighed in relief.</p><p>“Well, happy birthday,” she said sullenly. “I had- I had a whole thing planned for a sexy surprise last night.” His eyes knitted in a look of sympathy. He went to his bed and sat down next to her, taking her hand in his. His expression terrified her. “What is it? What happened last night?” He didn't want to but he knew he had to. He filled her in on what happened. </p><p>“Oh my god,” she said, her body feeling a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the hangover from hell.</p><p>“Nothing- nothing worse happened. And I smashed the camera. I promise, I got there in time.” She put her hand to her mouth as her skin started to crawl. She didn’t know what was scarier: remembering it happening or not remembering any of it happening. The not remembering any of it part though was ebbing out in that contest tough. “They didn’t do anything worse. Don’t worry, I got there in time. Heather covered for you with your parents. She said after you slept over you were going to the mall and a movie and will be back by dinner. If you still don’t feel well enough to go I’ll make something else up.” She was hardly listening to the last part, her skin still crawling with the revelation of what had happened to her. She was glad he got there in time but she was still freaked out by the whole thing.</p><p>“It was my fault! I should have-” He cut her off immediately.</p><p>“Not even remotely your fault," he told her succinctly. "They put something in your drink.” She saw the anger bubble up underneath him. She should quell it, but her own anger was starting to surface too.</p><p>“What. The. Fuck?” She started shaking. He noticed and pulled her against him.</p><p>“You were so out of it last night. I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.” He clutched her tight. “I’m sorry I left you alone." She shook her head.</p><p>"We all thought we were safe and among friends," she said, realizing he was right-- none of this was their fault. "I don't understand why they would-"</p><p>"I don't know, but they didn't do any real harm," he told her. He kissed her head and released her. “You should call Martha. She wanted you to as soon as you were awake.” He handed her his phone and she nodded. She dialed the familiar numbers and waited for the other end to ring. Luckily it was Martha that got the phone first and not her parents or brothers.</p><p>JD went upstairs to the tentative knock on the basement door. It was Kyle, worried. He told her she was up and fine. He was relieved and handed him some tea and crackers, hoping that it would help her. JD thanked him and went back downstairs.</p><p>“Hey Martha. It’s me,” Veronica told Martha on the phone, her voice still feeling raw and half asleep.</p><p>“Veronica! Thank goodness. I was so worried,” Martha told her, fretting.</p><p>“Did you get home okay last night?” Veronica asked, not really wanting to focus on what happened to her.</p><p>“Of course, that’s beside the fact. I drove you guys back to JD’s and then walked home. He’s only about a 20 minute walk away and I was with Heather. She stayed over with me.” She heard a scuffle on the phone. “Hold on, Heather wants to talk to you.” Veronica waited as the phone was passed to Heather.</p><p>“Veronica? Oh my god. That was so scary last night. Do not remotely worry, we got upstairs in time. They didn’t do anything to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“JD told me. I can’t remember anything though. It’s really scary.”</p><p>“They’re trash. Really just trash. I can’t believe I ever hooked up with Ram. Ever.”</p><p>Martha grabbed the phone back. “Any leftover crush I had is officially gone. I’m not generally a big believer in violence but watching your boyfriend smash his fist into Kurt’s face was very satisfying.”</p><p>“He did?” She asked, her stomach feeling queasy and not just because of the residual effects of the drugs.</p><p>“Of course. There might be rumors in school. They told a bunch of people as they left that he went psycho on them for no reason but, not that many kids from our school were there.” Veronica felt even queasier. <em> Rumors. </em>She hadn’t even thought of rumors in school. She realized she just had to wait until Monday to find that out.</p><p>“Can we not worry about stuff like that right now. I’m okay, I promise. I’m sorry I worried you all.”</p><p>“You’re sorry!” Heather said-- she had grabbed the phone back-- aghast. “Those two fucks put something in your drink. They-”</p><p>“Guys, please. My head.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” Martha said. Heather said the same.</p><p>“I want to hear some good news. Martha, did you get that guy’s number before we left Martha?” She laughed.</p><p>“No. I left him to go find out what was happening with you,” she said regrettably. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” she heard Heather say. “I’ll ask Kyle to ask his brother to ask around. Someone’s gotta have his number. It’s not that big of a county.”</p><p>“He kissed me,” she told Veronica quietly, bubbling over with joy.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Veronica said, honestly happy for her. She knew it was her first kiss. “I’m so glad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I mean, I know I should be more concerned with what those jerks did to you-”</p><p>“Stop. I’m so glad you met someone. Really. Be happy about it. I don’t want to focus on- I don’t want to think about what happened at this moment, okay? Be happy.” They talked a little more before she told them she needed to go, she was still feeling yucky from the after effects of this drug they gave her. She curled back up under JD’s blanket. He took the phone back.</p><p>"I'm gonna call Jeff, let him know you're awake. He was worried too." She had seen Kyle's concern moments ago too. Despite the awfulness of the situation it touched her greatly knowing her friends were there for her, cared, and worried. She remembered back in September she had joined with the Heathers convinced they would protect her, but was amazed that it was this hodgepodge organic group of friends she had created in the wake of her ostracism from them that truly cared and protected her.</p><p>When she felt better she was going to thank and hug each one of them. For right now though, it was hard for her to think. “God, I’ve never felt this awful in my life. What the hell did they give me?” JD’s face held a quiet rage even as he got her another glass of water and forced her to drink it. He remained silent. “JD? Please. Talk to me.” He looked down at her tired face etched with pain and confusion.</p><p>“When I see them next I am going to murder them,” he told her simply and honestly. Her whole body and mind started. <em> He’s different, </em> she reminded herself. <em> He wasn’t being literal. But still... </em></p><p>“JD… please,” she urged.She was scared and worried, yes, but also ashamed. It hurt knowing that her friends knew what had happened even though intellectually she did know it wasn’t her fault. She realized it would require some time to process.</p><p>“Veronica, they really crossed a line. What they did to you. I fucking can’t-” Now that she was awake and safe he finally allowed the rage he had set aside last night to bubble back up to the surface. He was certainly better at managing his rage since moving away from his father and talking to someone, but he wasn’t incapable of feeling it. And he was clear from the moment he met Veronica and let her into his life and heart that protecting her would always be a trigger. He may have begun to accept the fact that there hadn’t been much he could have done to protect his mother owing to how little he was-- and being a victim at times himself-- but there was no shaking loose his need to protect Veronica. He was old enough and capable enough of making sure she was safe from all the miscreants and abusers of the world. </p><p>“JD! Look at me!” He did. She tried to search for her own feelings. She felt awful. It wasn't just because of the aftereffects of the drug that was in her system, but also at the frightening gap in her memory and what JD told her happened. “You got to me in time, right? Nothing happened?” Her brows nit in worry.</p><p>He sat down on the bed and cupped her face in his hand. “I did. No, nothing like that happened.” She closed her eyes and breathed out. The panic over the missing hours didn’t leave her though. “Don’t worry about that.” He put his arms around her, pulling her into him to hug her. He carefully played with her hair.</p><p>She was worried though. She remembered what he-- and she-- had done the last time around to Kurt and Ram for merely starting a rumor about her. This time they had actually drugged her and tried-- she wasn’t quite sure what they had been trying to do but it wasn’t right-- to do her real harm. She was trying to remember that not only did the revenge bring both of them down, it honestly didn’t work. Killing assholes didn’t make all the assholes go away: more just took their place. And the more asshole were her and JD. <em>When the bullied get revenge on the bullies they’re no better than the bully, </em> she had once told JD. A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her, unable to weigh the true ramifications of all this with her bleary body. “You’re with me now. You're safe,” he whispered in her ear.</p><p>“We can figure out what to do later, okay?" She told him. "For right now can you just hold me? My head hurts and I’m so tired that it hurts to even think. Please? Just hold me in bed.” His anger took a momentary back seat to the strong urge to console her. He remembered that awful night after the fight with his dad months ago when he asked to do the same thing in her bed and empathized deeply.</p><p>“Of course I can do that,” he told her as his face scrunched up in sympathy. They moved their bodies so that he spooned her from behind and wrapped his arm around her. She snuggled into him as he gently stroked her arm with his thumb. He held her until she fell back asleep. He nodded off with her for a bit too. When she awoke about an hour later he was at his stovetop making some food.</p><p>“JD?” She asked, voice scratchy and very cotton-y. “Can I have another glass of water?”</p><p>He poured some for her and walked it over to her. She gulped it down gratefully. “How are you feeling?” He asked. “Better?”</p><p>“Still tired and achy.” She looked at him. “This is embarrassing, but I need to use the bathroom.” She paused. “I’m still having trouble standing.” He nodded realizing. He helped her up and walked her to the toilet and assisted her as much as he could.</p><p>“I guess this is true intimacy,” she quipped to him. He flashed her a rueful smile and helped her up and back to the bed.</p><p>“Can you eat something? I just made tomato soup from the can and grilled cheese on my camp burner.” She nodded and he brought the food over to her. He opened his fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. “This might help too,” he told her, popping the tab and putting it in front of her. He set it all up on his TV tray for her and she nibbled at it, her stomach grateful for the calories. She sipped the soda and the rush of carbonation, sugar, and caffeine helped a lot as well. </p><p>“I don’t want you to do anything to Kurt and Ram about this,” she told him quietly, when she had finished eating.</p><p>“They hurt you,” he said quietly, but his anger and rage at them was beginning to bubble to the surface.</p><p>“You hit them last night, didn’t you?” She asked, remembering what Martha had said.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” he told her, not lying. “And I’d do it again.” She nodded.</p><p>“I appreciate your need to protect me,” she told him truthfully. “I do. But we graduate in four months JD. We’ll never see them again after that.” He didn’t respond to that. She felt weak and went to lay back down in his bed. He went with her, pulling her close, as if afraid that if he took her out of her arms then he’d find her back in that room from last night. “Neither of us need anything to complicate all of that up. I want to finish the school year, go to the prom with you, and graduate. That’s it. I want to keep my head down and stay out of the Westerberg game.” She sighed. “Last night with you, Heather, Martha, Kyle, and Jeff-- it was so much fun. Us just hanging out and goofing around. I want the rest of the year to be that.” Who knew if that was possible, she realized but the two of them had been through so much she just wanted it to be.</p><p>He tried to understand, to see what she saw but it was so hard for him. “I do want that too,” he told her, quietly, meaning it. He had been having fun that night before it all went down as well. He didn’t know what he was going to do Monday morning when he saw those sick fucks now.</p><p>Veronica stared at the wall ahead of her unsure of any feelings. <em> What the hell happened?  </em>The gap in her memory terrified her. She believed JD and was grateful she had friends to protect her... but still.</p><p>But still. </p><p>The first time around it had been a rumor after an awful night fending the two buffoons off in an almost comical manner in the graveyard. The innuendo and rumors had hurt. The whispers of “slut” stung hard. But they were just words, untrue ones, but words. The events that followed had been so exponentially worse. But this time she had been violated. They put a drug in her drink. They could have hurt her much worse than they did. What if they did that to another girl? What if that girl didn’t have a boyfriend or friends around to make sure she was okay? To run up and stop anything from happening. She knew she had to do something to prevent that from happening, but in a manner that was completely different than how the two of them had tried to handle it last time. She knew it would be hard, and the easier path was just to forget the whole thing and move on but her mind was made up </p><p>“JD?” She spoke finally.</p><p>“Hmm?” He responded.</p><p>“On Monday morning I want to try and talk to Mr. Keene. I’ll tell him what happened. We’ll handle it that way.”</p><p>“What about your parents? Are you sure you want them to know?” She sighed.</p><p>“I’ll probably get into trouble for going to a party or sleeping here when I told them I was at Heather’s. I don’t know. I’ll deal with it when it comes. But let’s talk to him first. We’ll see what he can do and after school I’ll tell my folks. Okay? Let’s handle it that way.” He bristled. He was worried. He had never known an administration at any of the high school’s he had ever been to take the safety and care of teenage girls in situations like this with an overabundance of care-- especially with star athletes involved. He had very little faith in the system.</p><p>But she did.</p><p>“Promise me. Promise me you’ll let me try and handle it this way. Do not do anything to them.” He breathed in and out. He wanted to murder those assholes. He wanted to punch them until an inch of their lives-- possibly even further. “Promise me, please.”</p><p>But she wanted him not to. “I promise. I promise I won’t do anything to them,” he told her reluctantly vowing to himself to keep that promise as best as he could. </p><p>“Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll let you handle it your way.” <em> First </em> he almost added but bit his tongue. The subject was laid to rest. A few minutes later he turned the TV on for mindless background noise and they spent the rest of the day in bed as she went in and out of sleep. Around five he asked her how she was feeling.</p><p>“Still weak,” she told him. “But better than this morning. I think I can handle dinner with mom and dad.” She tugged his sleeve. “Join us? I’ll call mom, I’m sure she won’t mind. She wanted to tell you happy birthday. Heck, my Dad did too.” She laughed. “Bring some leftover cake. He’ll like you more if you have cake to bring him.” He agreed and they got up. Carefully she got dressed for the first time that day in a simple pair of jeans and her own shirt from her overnight bag. She carefully placed his shirt in his own laundry pile. He smiled as she straightened his laundry up out of habit. She repacked her overnight bag afterwards and held the bustier she had planned to seduce JD in for a moment. He noticed her staring at it.</p><p>“I take it this was my final birthday surprise?” He asked carefully. She nodded.</p><p>"I was gonna seduce you in it," she told him quietly.</p><p>“Oh," he said warmed by her intentions. "I would have liked that,” he told her honestly. He nudged her with his elbow and she smiled.</p><p>“When I’m ready I’ll make it up to you for not keeping that promise I made to you last night.” She touched the lace and bows, remembering how confident it had made her feel yesterday as if it had been a million years ago and not last night. She still wanted to wear it for him and feel that same way.</p><p>“Veronica- I’m not- it’s okay. Don’t-” He shut up when she took his hand and laced her fingers with his. She still felt awful from last night, but she still received comfort and love from his touch. He was glad she still felt comfortable being with him. </p><p>“I like being with you like that,” she told him honestly. “I love you. I’m not ashamed of my physical attraction to you. I thought you felt the same.”</p><p>“Oh God I do,” he told her using his free hand to toy with the little tuft of hair near her bang. “I like being with you like that too.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “When you’re ready though, okay? It’s- there’s no rush, yeah? Hey, I love you too.” He kissed her head lingeringly before resting his forehead against hers. “You made my birthday special for the first time in a long time. Thank you.” She leaned over and gently pressed her lips to his.</p><p>“You deserved it.” They broke apart. "Just remember, April 7th for mine," she told him not so subtly. He smiled.</p><p>"Don't worry, I won't forget." They got ready to head out.</p><p>“Oh, um,” she reached into her bag and showed him the handcuffs Heather M had given her. His eyes went wide in surprise. He definitely did not see that coming. “Can we keep these at your place? I think my mom would have too many questions I don’t want to answer if she found them.” He blinked a few times before he gingerly took them from her and put them under his pillow like they were a nuclear bomb. </p><p>“What, um,” his throat went dry. “What exactly was your full plan last night?”</p><p>She laughed lightly, glad to think about this instead of the horrible stuff. “Well, when I’m ready for the redo I’ll fill you in, okay?”</p>
<hr/><p>JD held her hand as she walked into school that Monday. She was still feeling tired from the effects of the drug even with the extra night of sleep and thought about telling her parents she was sick. In the end though she decided it was best to bite the bullet and not coward herself out. Too many bad things happened to her in her first lifetime because of her cowardice and she knew that she had to push past her fear and do what was right. She had decided to go straight to Mr. Keene’s office to talk to him about the incident and JD agreed to go with her. She had no idea what was going to happen but she needed to try. They figured they could get in to see him before the bell rang for homeroom. If they couldn’t get excuse notes she’d forge some up later. </p><p>She still had no memory of the party on Saturday and that still terrified her. JD, Heather, Martha, Jeff, and Kyle had vehemently swore that the school as a whole had not seen her in that state-- Charlie Sandusky’s guest list included very few current attendees of Westerberg’s more gossip minded types anyhow-- and that JD had smashed their camera but still.</p><p>But still. She remembered Kurt and Ram. She remembered their open mouths, ability to lie, and how easy it was for the kids of her school to listen to salacious gossip and never question it because it was more fun to think the worst was true. She braced herself to handle a little gossip. She expected the rumor mill about JD getting into a scuffle with Kurt and Ram to at least factor. But she was going to talk to the administration this time. She was going to do what they always told her she should do in these situations: she was going through the proper channels. They always told her they could help you just had to ask for it. Isn’t that what Ms. Fleming always blathered on about during anti-drug assemblies? “Just say no” and “tell the administration if you see something illegal.” Well, she couldn’t believe that Kurt and Ram had obtained whatever drug they had used on her legally after all. That all fell under the same umbrella as any of this ‘War On Drugs’ hoopla, right?  </p><p>They were heading through the school before she noticed there was quite a crowd gathering near where her locker was located which confused and bewildered her. “What’s going on?” JD asked.</p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe Richie Cullens and Mary White are breaking up loudly again.” The couple was prone to many dramatic breakups and reunions.</p><p>“Veronica!” Martha exclaimed as she ran up to her. She still looked fantastic from Heather’s makeover intervention Friday night and Veronica still wanted to grill her intently on this boy she had met and kissed. She was just dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but her hair and makeup still looked on point. <em> Good, </em> Veronica thought. <em> Martha deserves to look just as good on the outside as she was on the inside. </em> “Veronica! Don’t go to your locker please.”<br/>
<br/>
“Martha, what are you talking about? What-” The crowd parted like Charlton Heston had parted the red sea as she walked closer to it. And she saw what all the commotion was about: pinned to her locker were several pictures of her barely conscious in a state of undress-- one with Ram and the other others with Kurt implying--</p><p>Implying something happened that most assuredly did not. It took her a moment to read what was written on her locker in red marker. </p><p>
  <em> “Veronica Sawyer! Miss Ultra Slut Westerberg: 1990!”</em>
</p><p>Veronica blinked in shock as standing next to her locker, leading the laughs was Heather Chandler and her crony behind her Heather Duke. "God, can you believe it? She always acts like she's so much better than us, like a Girl Scout Cookie. Turns out Veronica Sawyer is nothing but a dirty whore."</p><p>Red flooded Veronica's vision.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos and Comments are appreciated.</p><p>Some PSA stuff:<br/>Here's some quick links as well:<br/>https://www.rainn.org/articles/alcohol-safety<br/>https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/320409#signs-and-symptoms</p><p>If you are ever out and you think a friend may have had something put in their drink just make sure you get them out of that scenario as quickly as possible and go to an emergency room. Keep an eye on your friends, and make sure your friends keep an eye on you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Let's Run Off to California</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD asks Veronica to runaway with him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello. Okay. This was a toughie to make sure I wrote okay. It is my impression from reading articles and stuff on lexisnexis, etc that the criminalization of Rohypnol and the entire drugging a drink didn't gain momentum until the 90s when it started to gain media attention. But I'll stand corrected if anyone wants to contest this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She stood there stunned and unmoving. Heather Chandler’s face and laugh swarmed in front of her like she had just taken the Electric Acid Kool-Aid Test. She vaguely noticed as JD sprung from her side and pushed through the crowd quickly to get the pictures off her locker, stuffing them in his pockets, as he pushed the looky loos away to disperse. Heather Mac ran up to Veronica and threw her arms around her. “Oh my god, oh my god, I just heard. Veronica? Veronica? Can you hear me?” Veronica heard ringing in her ears and everything went in slow motion around her as she took it all in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hearing returned to her slowly. First there was the sniggering as people pointed at her, the laughter, the wolf whistles. She was still feeling weak and tired from the after effects of that awful drug Kurt and Ram had given her and coupled with the shock it was affecting her ability to stand upright. She felt a boy flick her hair and ask her, “freaky Sawyer! What you wearing underneath this one, huh?” In her periphery she saw Heather Mac push him away and tell him to “fuck off” as he cackled with his buddies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pictures. There were pictures of her in fancy undergarments she had intended only her boyfriend to see with the linebacker and the quarterback engaging in what appeared to be-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach flipped at seeing herself in a position she didn’t remember and the pictures did a terrible job of conveying that she was not of sound mind and body. Pictures like that never did. Pictures give people images of what they wanted to see afterall, not images of what was real. JD may have ripped the pictures down but not before most of the student body had already seen them and there had to be negatives for more prints. Heather and Martha managed to reach her side and keep her from passing out as she vaguely saw JD pushing and yelling at some freshman boy that tried to pocket one that had fallen on the ground as a keepsake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heather Chandler floated through the crowd like she was a goddess of virtue, with Heather Duke following her, before turning to Veronica to snigger over her shoulder, “aw, did Veronica get too drunk and frisky with the football team all to make her psycho boyfriend jealous?” Veronica, fueled by pure rage as she came back to reality crashing around her, almost did something to the girl herself if not for Martha and Heather grabbing her. “Glad for Kurt and Ram’s sake she kept her gag reflex at bay. I recall Veronica Sawyer always tends to party too hard too soon.” The words rolled off her tongue, like venom, referring to her affection for regurgitation at the party months back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up Heather!” Heather Mac snapped at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I hear is a bunch of slutty birds chirping in my ear,” Duke replied as her and Chandler giggled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it could continue on they all spotted Kurt and Ram cruising down the hallway, probably to check up on their handiwork. Before Veronica could even think to stop it-- or even if she really did-- this set off the most epic fight Westerberg High had seen since the same boy had beat the same two other boys up back in September. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In light of the recent turn of events JD considered his promise to Veronica null and void and walked up with anger and purpose to deck Kurt Kelly’s face so hard he slammed him into the locker. In truth some of JD’s anger was at himself, he had no idea to think that there could have been more than one camera.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The crowd gave them a wide berth but showed no signs of dispersing as the second show of the morning began. It took Ram a moment to leap into the fray and try to pull JD off of his friend but JD fought both of them back. It didn’t last long. As was standard practice at Westerberg High the harassment and humiliation of a teenage girl didn’t manage to bring the administration out-- it was the fighting of boys. The gym teacher, Mr. L, came out after hearing the commotion and managed to get a hold of JD and rip him off of Kurt and in immediate response Mr. Keene got a hold of Ram. Kurt was too busy gasping from air on the ground to need to be physically restrained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is enough! My office now!” JD trashed against the teacher like a caged animal, his anger not even close to being satiated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica was still standing there, shaking, too stunned to even comprehend JD losing his temper and punching them even though he promised not to. Granted, he agreed to that before they both realized there were pictures and that they would be on gallery view at her locker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw Heather Mac’s face scrunch up in her own anger Veronica didn’t even know she had the capability of. “Look at what they did to my friend!” She pointed at the locker and what was left of Veronica’s shame. They weren’t listening though and were dragging the boys inside to discipline the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD was plopped down in the inner office door by the scruff of his coat by the gym coach while Kurt and Ram were seated in the waiting area. The secretary, Miss Bell, gave Kurt an ice pack and clucked sympathetically at the boy’s injuries which only inflamed JD’s anger more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twitched in his seat still high from the anger he had over what was done to Veronica and the rush that was always involved with a physical fight. “Jesus Christ, four months before you graduate and now I have to have a serious discussion about going through the disciplinary channel of expulsion due to continual fighting and violence! Seriously?! You couldn’t hold out for four months?! I thought this was all over back in October. I’ll have to get your father in here-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to call him,” JD said in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yes I do,” Mr. Keene said, grabbing his file to find the guardian contact information. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m eighteen now, you don’t need to call him.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still a student enrolled here, yes I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where he is,” JD admitted as he gritted his teeth. There hadn’t been much thinking involved when he had started the hitting, there never usually was. He hadn’t really informed the school of his change of address and lack of guardianship prior to his birthday, not wanting to set off any alarms or ramifications. He honestly had no idea what to expect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the admission of his family situation Kurt and Ram chortled from the waiting area they were in. Mr. Keene shot them a look and they shut up. He slammed the door shut realizing this problem student was probably an even bigger administration nightmare than he realized he would be. “I moved out and into a friend's basement. I honestly don’t know exactly where he moved to. Somewhere in Virginia I think but that was three months ago. I don’t know how long he was planning to stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Keene sat at his desk and rested his forehead on his fingers and stared at the teenager. It was a lot for him to unpack. He had never had any intention of expelling the kid so close to his graduation, but he had to scare him a little or he wasn’t doing his job. Now things were getting stickier. “He kicked you out? Before you were 18? If so, that’s illegal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mutual decision. What does it matter? I’m eighteen now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.  You really want to explore that option? Okay, you’re eighteen. That means their parents can file an assault charge on you. You’ll be charged as an adult. If the judge is having a bad day that could be jail time. You want to be an adult now? That means realizing there are hard consequences to losing your temper and hitting someone. Outside of these walls it’s not school yard grudges anymore punished by detentions and suspensions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charges against me?” He spat back, seething with anger. “What about those two assholes out there? You should be calling the police on them. What they did to Veronica-” Mr. Keene sank down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God almighty, this is all seriously still over the same girl? I’m going to need to bring Ms. Sawyer in and talk to her about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you blind?” JD snapped. “Did you not see her locker?” Mr. Keene bristled. He didn’t. He chewed this wrinkle carefully trying to deduce what was going on. JD took one of the pictures out of his pocket upset and slapped it on his desk. Mr. Keene looked then immediately turned the photo over. It was not his want to stare at a teenage girl in that state of dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed carefully. He would have to address the matter of the pictures after dealing with the fight. “This will be dealt with, but Mr. Dean I’m sorry if your girlfriend is cheating on you but it is not a reason to attack the boys who-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD was about to lose his temper properly except the loud buzzing of the intercom cut him off. “Mr. Keene, I have some girls who are very upset and need to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Belle, tell them to come back later. I’m in the middle of something.” There was a commotion outside the door as it was trying to be opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might be pertinent. I have Veronica Sawyer out here with Heather McNamera. She is very upset and insists on speaking with you. Miss McNamara is screaming at Mr. Kelly and Mr. Sweeney. It’s a bit of a mess.” He sighed as his finger hovered over the talk button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let her in,” JD told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He leaned into the intercom and spoke, “let her in.” The door unlocked and behind it was Veronica-- her face red and stained with tears-- and a furious Heather M. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him what those-” Heather pointed at Kurt and Ram still in the outer office unsure what was happening around them. They had been smug at first when they heard JD being yelled at behind the closed door but now they weren’t sure what was going on. “Tell him what happened on Friday night.” All JD wanted to do was take her as far away from all the assholes in the inner and outer office combined. He wanted to run off with her so far away that no one could ever hurt her like any of them had ever again. <em>The ocean</em>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a quiver of resolve in her voice she told Mr. Keene exactly what happened at Charlie Sandusky’s party. When her memory stopped she let JD and Heather take over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martha and I followed JD up and saw her on the bed. He’d just ripped those two asses off her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was out of it, so so out of it,” Heather continued. “We were so scared. She had no idea what was happening around her. She barely had been drinking that night and even still I have never seen anyone look the way she looked just drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw her up there, completely passed out and they were just taking pictures of her,” JD said, through gritted teeth. “I smashed one camera. I didn’t realize they had a second one,” he said, angry at the two neandrathals, but at himself as well. “I took her back to my place and spent the night watching her, scared she’d stop breathing,” he said. Veronica started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me that,” she told him softly. She knew it had all been serious, and that he’d been concerned but- well, she hadn’t realized exactly to what extent. He just looked away, still coursing over his anger of the events of that morning.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Mr. Keene took the whole scenario in. It was messy. Drugs and alcohol were involved. Two sides of a story and accusations against boys that held status in the school and town. “Miss Sawyer, please do not lie to me right now,” he told her slowly. The simple teenage male brawl he thought he was dealing with had suddenly turned into a much bigger mess than anyone could imagine. “You didn’t knowingly take-” Mr. Keene asked, trying to suss out all of the accusations suddenly swarming his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Veronica, Heather, and JD all yelled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They put something in her drink so that they could take those pictures and pin them to her locker,” JD practically growled. “To shame her, to get back at me, I don’t fucking know. But they did that.” JD didn’t have faith in the system like Veronica did, but anytime anyone is confronted with the frailty of it it was still very shocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Keene looked from each student and thought back to the football players who would surely deny any of these allegations to be true. He needed evidence, without a prompt hospital report or police report all of this was going to turn into an incredibly ugly he said/she said and he knew-- just knew-- that the “she said” was going to get drowned out in the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parents were going to be in his office very upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the crying girl and believed Miss Sawyer. He even understood now why her boyfriend had started pummeling the other two boys even if for the sake of order he had to still tell him that it was wrong to have hit them. “Why didn’t you go to the police or the hospital right away?” Mr. Keene asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for fuck’s sake they’re lying!” Kurt called out, starting to worry they weren’t getting an automatic out like normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two might want to shut up immediately. Guess what? Football season is over and your coach can’t come in and talk you out of this one. Mr. Kelly, Mr. Sweeney, as of right now you are suspended. Get off the campus now. These are allegations that I fully intend to investigate but whatever else may be true, distributing those pictures is grounds enough for at least one week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we didn’t--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then who did? You clearly took them. Are you telling me they were stolen?” They were quiet. “Get out of this office and get to your homes. Now. Your parents are being immediately notified of this incident.” Upon their departure he sat back at his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica was now sitting in one of his chairs with tears in her eyes. Mr. Keene’s heart plummeted. He was better with boys than with girls admittedly. He was better with pulling apart macho fights than dealing with a girl’s shame and hurt feelings. “Miss McNamera, you better get to class, all right?” She didn’t want to leave Veronica but Veronica just nodded to her and she reluctantly left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was on my way in here today to tell you about what happened, I didn’t realize there would be pictures waiting for me. I had planned on doing it the right way.” It felt a million years ago when she planned to walk through these doors and tell him what happened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pictures. There were scantily clad pictures of me hanging on my locker.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t even think to bring her to the hospital,” JD said, his anger at Kurt and Ram slowly being replaced with anger at himself. “I- I just wanted to make sure she was all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the heat of an emergency it’s not always clear what you should do,” he conceded.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>And it’s not like we tell you kids logically what to do in these situations. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh yes, the school had “Just Say No,” D.A.R.E lectures, and MADD assemblies but it was becoming clear situations teenagers could find themselves in were not as straightforward as an NBC </span>
  <em>
    <span>The More You Know</span>
  </em>
  <span> PSA would have you believe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boys are drugging girls now? Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the young lady in front of him-- only seventeen years old-- and offered her a tissue. She took it. “Miss Sawyer, I’m sorry all of this happened. And I’m sorry, we’re going to have to tell your parents about this. We’re going to have to schedule a meeting with you, all those involved, and their guardians. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Were there any other witnesses?” JD told him that other Heather, Martha had been there. Jeff had seen her being dragged around by them and Kyle had ridden in the car with them back. All of them, they were sure, would tell him what they saw. Mr. Keene wrote the names down. He had a niggling feeling that once Principal Gowan was notified this was all going to get stickier. The man didn’t like sticky situations and had his head stuck in old fashioned attitudes. He had heard him complain repeatedly that the girls needed to dress more conservatively and he hated seeing boys life’s “ruined” by accusations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at that point JD was broken from his own anger enough to realize that Veronica was quietly crying. Quickly he reached his hand out to capture hers in his own and squeezed it. She blinked at him and squeezed it back, grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Keene noticed the interaction and saw Veronica sitting in the chair still sniffling. “Do you want to maybe talk to the school counselor in the next few days about it?” He honestly had no idea what else he could offer. She sniffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe,” she told him. She was still busy unpacking all the shame and fear. “If they have photos of me like that,” she told him carefully. “There must be negatives-” She felt JD’s grip on her hand tighten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure they hand them over to be destroyed no matter what,” he told her with certainty. He turned to the young man in his office. “Mr. Dean, I’m going to have to give you detention for the rest of the week at the bare minimum. I understand why you did what you did but I can’t let the physical aggression go. You could have just taken the pictures down and come straight here with them.” JD didn’t respond. Veronica and he both knew it just wasn’t in his nature to do that. “Miss Sawyer, you’re excused for the rest of the day. I’m going to call your parents and tell them to take you to a doctor. It’s possible whatever was in your system late Friday may still show up on a blood test. At the very least we can narrow down what was given to you, see if it was an illegal substance or legal. If drugs like this are being sold or passed around town then the police need to be notified.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded. “Why don’t you wait for her in the outer hallway. Um, Mr. Dean, if you wish to wait with her I’ll excuse you from your morning classes too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached into his cabinet for her file as they got up to go sit in the chairs outside his office to wait. They sat there for about half an hour in silence as he held her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom?” She asked. Her mother, worry etched onto her face, came down the hall and Veronica stood up and she immediately pulled her into a hug, kissing the side of her head. Realizing he was no longer needed he grabbed his coat and figured he’d cut for the rest of the day not really thinking he could deal with the rest of the school day. Before he could decide, Mrs. Sawyer looked at him from over Veronica and nodded at him, grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica turned to JD. “Call me later, okay?” He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned and left the school. Veronica and her mother didn’t speak until they got in the car. “Why didn’t you tell us when you got home?” She asked, quietly, as they fastened their seatbelts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d be mad,” Veronica told her simply. “Did you have to take a half day at work? Does dad know yet?” Her mother shook her head. She was quiet, not mad. Scared, not upset. Veronica wasn’t sure how to react.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I told them there was an emergency with you. I couldn’t get your father on the line so I left him a message.” Veronica nodded, unsure what to even say to her mother. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But what did she have to be sorry for other than the party thing? Her mother looked at her, took her hand, and squeezed it. “Let’s get coffee and talk. I couldn’t get you an appointment at Dr. Parker’s until 11:30 anyway.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A few minutes later they were in the car, warm coffees in their hands, and Veronica told her as much of the story as she could. She told her that there was a party, that she had had booze underage and all but that she hadn’t been taking any other drugs and she’d really not been drinking much. She told her everything she remembered from the night. Then she told her what her friends had told her happened after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother nodded. “I would normally be mad about the lying, a party with no parents, and underage drinking. Not to mention the wanting to spend the night at your boyfriend’s house when you said you were going to your girlfriend’s but, I think that’s all a bit of a moot point, don’t you?” Veronica nodded. She reached a free hand out and stroked her daughter’s hair. “I’m just grateful you have friends that take care of you now. When you were hanging around Heather Chandler I didn’t- well, she certainly isn’t the type of friend who would do that for you.” Veronica agreed. Especially in light of Heather Chandler leading the mob of pitchforks and torches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica sat on the slab of her doctor’s office looking around. It was a family practice and she had been going since she could remember. Dr. Parker used to give her lollipops when there were shots and there were toys and Highlights Magazines in the waiting room. She wondered at what age you stopped seeing a pediatrician. “Hey Veronica,” he said warmly as he pulled up in the office. Her mother was seated in the parent’s chair like she usually was, probably a little tenser than usual. “Didn’t expect you until you headed off to college for a quick exam. I was told you’ll need a blood test?” He asked, confused. Her mother had not filled him in on all of the details over the phone. “You've been feeling all right?” He asked, setting his clipboard down and swiveling his stool in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica looked back and forth from the doctor to her mother unsure if she should tell him or her mother. “You can tell him Veronica.” She did. He nodded and his eyes grew concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This happened Friday night?” Veronica nodded. “Okay, there’s a chance it’s still in your system depending on how much they gave you. I’ll have to send it out to a hospital’s lab, so it will be at least a week, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Otherwise, will she be okay?” Her mother asked, still worried. “Whatever they gave her, I mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do a quick examination. In general,” he told her, disliking the alarming rate these incidents had been occurring in general lately, “it seems these incidents involve sleeping aids, not illegal narcotics, but they leave a nasty after effect most akin to a hangover.” He looked at her. “The worst one you’re likely to ever have, honestly. The scariest part is when you’re asleep. I don’t say this to frighten you, but there was a chance you might not have woken up. Especially if too much was administered.” Veronica’s mother visibly tightened up, not having realized that had even been a possibility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boyfriend apparently watched me all night, worried that might happen,” Veronica admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did?” Her mother said, surprised, but not shocked. She was more glad that he did than anything else. Veronica nodded to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did,” she replied.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re lucky to have someone like that,” Dr. Parker told her. “Otherwise, how do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saturday morning was the worst. I threw up and spent most of the day in bed. I ate a little, but mostly zoned out.” He nodded empathetically. “I’m still pretty tired, and my muscles are sore. I have a headache but- well, that might be for other reasons,” she mumbled still thinking of her humiliation that morning. Dr. Parker had a good bedside manner and just went along examining her reflexes and put his stethoscope to her chest and had her breathe in and out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The most important thing is that you’re awake and it’s working it’s way out of your system. Drink lots of water and eat three full meals, okay?” He took his flashlight and quickly checked her eyes, then smiled. “Drawing blood isn’t fun though.” Veronica had never loved needles or shots, but she also knew they couldn’t kill her so she sucked it up and let him take her blood, finally cleaning it and bandaging up the prick in her skin.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Her father came home that night with burgers and french fries from the diner downtown, knowing that her mother was too stressed to even think about fixing a dinner. When in crisis in the Sawyer household her father always assumed-- and for the most part rightly-- burgers and fries would help. Veronica came downstairs to the two of them finishing talking. She had presumed her mother had caught her father up to speed. He looked angry. She stood in front of him, not sure who his anger was directed at. Before she could open her mouth he grabbed her and held her tight. “Oh peanut. I’m so sorry.” He held her out and tenderly stroked her hair. “We’ll make sure they get punished for what they did.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re not mad at me?” He closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I’m sure your mother told you I’m not thrilled you lied to us, but- what those boys did...” He swallowed his anger. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” He held her again before whispering to her, “I don’t know what I would have done if-” He stopped himself, before pulling himself together and letting her go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, I’m okay, really,” she told him. Dinner that night was a somber affair, with both her parents exchanging looks at each other. Veronica went up to her room tired after eating and sat in front of her mirror, trying not to think too much about the whole situation. She stared at the phone. JD still hadn’t called her either.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock knock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” she said. She was tracing her fingers over the pattern on the back of the silver plated brush and comb set her grandma had given her for Christmas when she was twelve. They were so pretty and dainty. She remembered ohhing and awing over it imagining when she’d be a teenager and getting dolled up for dates and dances. She blinked back tears, memories of the laughter as people pointed at her in a state of undress that she had no memory of dancing before her. She dreaded school the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom poked her head in. “Can we talk for a little bit honey?” Veronica nodded and her mother came in and closed the door. She went to her dresser and opened it. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Veronica turned a deep shade of red as she carefully pulled out the bustier and underwear set from where she thought it was hidden away. Veronica suddenly realized she may not have been the master sneak she assumed she was. She wondered how many things she’d thought she’d “hidden” from her mother over the years she was aware of but just didn’t bring up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica stared at the underwear. She had thought at the time it was a fun surprise for JD but was now the ultimate symbol of her humiliation and shame in front of the whole school. It had made her feel so confident and sexy once. She now doubted if she’d ever be able to wear anything other than oversized shirts and sweatpants to bed and Haynes-Her-Way under her marmish clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left this part out of the story when I told your father. I wanted to wait until we could talk about it first in private. There was the doctor earlier and you were so upset and- I’m not- I don’t want to- Yuck, there’s no good way to ask you this.” Her mother bit the bullet. “Where did you get this? Why were you wearing it on Friday?” She held up the corset she was now very embarrassed to ever have tried on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Veronica knew now was the time for ultimate honesty. The situation she found herself in with those assholes was very serious after all. “I went shopping with Heather and Martha. We- we saw it on sale and- they, well I- it wasn’t peer pressure. I thought I looked cute in it. I didn’t think anyone but me or, well, you know who would see it. I’m sorry.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly. She looked her daughter in her vanity mirror and walked up and stood behind her, putting the undergarments on her bed. She picked up the brush and started to carefully brush it through her hair. Her mother remembered doing it countless times when Veronica had been a little girl but suddenly she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had carefully taken care of her daughter’s soft black hair. “I assume the ‘you-know-who’ was JD?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica closed her eyes and enjoyed the familiar sensation of being taken care of by her mother. She couldn't remember the last time her mother had combed her hair before bed either. It felt nice. She’d forgotten how nice it was to be taken care of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One hundred strokes a night,</span>
  </em>
  <span> her mother always told her right before putting it in a neat french braid so that it would have a curl in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were officially dancing around the subject now. The subject of the status of Veronica Sawyer’s virginity with her boyfriend. Her mother knew she was planning to be in a state of undress with her boyfriend now. “Does it disappoint you then?” She asked sadly. “That I can be- that I’m-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh honey, no!” She stopped and put the brush down. She kneeled down in front of her daughter and looked her in the eyes taking her hands in hers. “No, no. Don’t think that. He’s been your boyfriend for nearly six months. It was his birthday… I mean, the idea that you were going to be intimate for the first time with him-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We already have,” she countered, challenging her. Her mother looked at her surprised and dropped her hands. “Um, we have since the beginning.” Her expression was unreadable. “Kind of one of the first things we ever did.” Her mother blinked at her, in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh my.” There. She had said it. Her mother had never really been the type to push “no sex before marriage” and she had been insistant on birth control when she turned sixteen-- though obstentiously it had been for period control-- but the truth was she was never really clear on how her parents would feel about her having sex in actual real life. Not really. Her mother chose her next words carefully. “Did he pressure-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Funnily enough, I think I may have pressured him.” Veronica laughed. Her mother didn’t respond. “Say something. Please. Tell me how much it upsets you.” The worry was clear on Veronica’s face but her mother’s expression softened, realizing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, oh honey... I’m a little surprised but not- no. Not upset. Very surprised in fact that I didn’t realize it, I do your laundry.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess no parent will ever really know unless they tell you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She sighed and looked at her. “I won’t lie to you. I am a little hurt that we don’t have the relationship where you felt like you could tell me. I always thought you felt comfortable with me about things like that, but I guess not,” her mother told her, a little hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Mom, that’s not-” Veronica trailed off. She wished it wasn’t true, but she knew it was. It had always embarrassed her to talk about that stuff with her and she certainly didn’t know it would hurt her like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not a little girl,” her mother continued. “I know that.” She paused and considered her next question. “Is he, um, your first?” Her mother asked carefully, bracing herself for the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Only.” She squeezed her fingers gently. “He’s the only boy I’ve ever wanted to be with,” she confided. Her mother let out a sigh of relief. She had chosen her first, she hadn’t been pressured, and she was happy about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank goodness it will always be a good memory for her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sylvia Sawyer’s own first time had been with a boy a year older than her in the back of his Buick after a dance. Back then it was unthinkable to put a teenage girl on the pill and of course he didn’t use a condom. He’d pressured her and was only interested in his own pleasure. A week later he was with another girl and she was panicking that he’d left her pregnant. She was lucky and wasn’t, but still. It was not a pleasant memory for her. She didn’t sleep with another boy until she got to college.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t put this in the parenting magazines and books. There are very large aisleways with books on sleep training and potty training but understanding your child is not a child anymore? No. They don’t prepare you for that.” She gently touched her hair and face. “You’re being safe, right? You’re taking your birth control?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes mom.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’ll make an appointment to see a gynecologist anyway. I know it embaresses you to talk to me about these things but you can ask her questions and make sure you're healthy and the birth control you’re on is the best method for you. I’ll wait outside if it makes it more comfortable for you.” Veronica nodded. “These are things you’ll have to do on your own soon though, you understand? If you want to do this-- be an adult woman in an adult relationship-- you need to be responsible. You need to take care of yourself, go to a doctor regularly, and pay attention to when you do and don’t get your period. All of that.” Veronica nodded, understanding. She realized she probably hadn’t been the safest and smartest when it came to all of that. Yes, she was on the pill, but monitoring her body was something she hadn’t thought to do. She kind of regretted not talking to her mother sooner about all of this. Her mother had one more important question for her. “Is he nice with you?” She asked carefully. “Does he, um, take care of you? Listen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom…” Veronica said, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need gory details honey I just want to make sure you’re- that he treats you...” She struggled for the right word. “Kindly. That’s all. You deserve to enjoy it as much as he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is. I mean, he does. I… like being with him like that,” she told her mother as delicately as possible, who was relieved. Veronica bit her lip nervously. “Are you going to tell dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father and I don’t keep secrets. Especially about you.” Veronica looked away, worried. “And he’s going to hear about how you were dressed in those… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pictures.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mother spat the last word out, still angered that her daughter was photographed like that against her wishes and displayed to the other kids. Her mother delicately brought Veronica’s face back to her own. “Your father,” she sighed, “he loves you very much. But yes, it is harder for him to not see you as a little girl than it is for me sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I were a boy would he-?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“He’d probably be proud,” she answered honestly. “Men infantilize their daughters sometimes. He doesn’t mean to do it and he’s not as bad with it as my own was but he does it sometimes. Remember we told you how scary it was to deliver you? That they were worried that me or you might not make it?” She nodded. “When we both pulled through he got so protective of us. He can’t help it. He’s a very even tempered man but he’s protective of the people he loves. Look, I’ll tell him gently. He might be surprised but- oh honey, there really isn’t much you could do that would ever stop him from loving you. You’re grown up. He needs to realize that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started straightening up her room, it had been awhile since she had really spent time in there and now she was realizing there wasn’t much time left with her in their home like this before she went off to college and her adult life. “I won’t lie to you, it might be at least one step back in the progress he’s made with liking JD but-” She shrugged and sat on the bed. “I’ll make sure he knows how JD took care of you and got you out of there. He does really care about you, doesn’t he?” Veronica nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He loves me, and I love him,” she told her mom simply. Her mother gave her the quietest of smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy for you. You don’t even know how happy I am to see you in love and them loving you back.” She touched her daughter’s cheek and Veronica smiled back. “Please remember though, what those horrible boys did to you,” she pushed down her own angry tears. “They did it without your consent.” Veronica nodded, her skin crawling at the mere thought of someone other than JD seeing her like that. “Please try to keep that hurt away from what you do with Jason. Okay?” Veronica nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will mom. I promise. I’m scared to go to school tomorrow though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know honey. If I could excuse you for the rest of the year I would, but we can’t.” She looked her over and relented on one thing. “I can give you one more day off though, okay? Hopefully by then the gossip mill will be on to it’s next topic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Her mom leaned down and kissed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just so sorry this happened to you.” Veronica didn’t know what to say to that. Her mother equally didn’t know what else to do or say to her daughter. “What do you say you and I have a Saturday or Sunday mom and Veronica day? Hm? Go to a movie? Get lunch? How about we see that new Tom Cruise one?” Veronica smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to see Born on the Fourth of July?” She asked, surprised. She relented. “Yes. I’d like that a lot actually.” Her mother chucked her chin lightly and made her way to the door. “Also, one more thing.” Her mother stopped at the doorway. Veronica thought carefully about her question. “Would it be all right if I spent the night at JD’s place sometimes? I’ll tell you when I do so you’re not worried. But the only reason I lied about that was because I didn’t want to upset you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom looked at her with a half laugh. “How about we talk about it after your birthday when you’re officially eighteen, okay?” Veronica agreed, knowing her father would need a moment to adjust to his daughter being an adult. One that has sex with her boyfriend. Her mother fingered the bustiere before putting it back in the drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is very cute,” she said holding it up. “One of the more modest ones you could have found. I read the magazines too, most of the pop stars wear more daring ones in public than this. The bows are kind of nice.” They laughed before Veronica groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I never want to look at it again,” she groaned. “You might as well throw it out.” Her mother folded it carefully and put it back in her underwear drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, like I said: don’t let those boys take it from you. You’re beautiful, smart, and a good person. Keep it. When the time is right wear it again.” She didn’t respond. “Or else, maybe I’ll take it.” Veronica nearly had a heart attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom. That’s not- Not funny at all. Please don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. Your father actually prefers-” She covered her ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LALALALALALALALA! My parents had sex exactly one time and that was to make me!” Her mother just laughed and kissed her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I need to accept that you sleep with your boyfriend then you need to accept that your father and I still sleep together too.” Veronica blanched at her mother, horrified. “Good night honey.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She picked up the phone and dialed JD. He picked up on the third ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were supposed to call me,” she told him, a little hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he told her. “I thought you’d want to sleep or… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” The truth was he was still angry at himself. Angry he didn’t destroy the second camera. Angry she was ever alone with those two assholes on Friday in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. How was the rest of the day?” She asked, nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. He didn’t want to tell her the truth. The truth was that it was the hottest topic of the whole school. The sniggering and the gossip did not abate despite her friends doing their best to tell people they had no idea what had really happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bad, huh?” Veronica asked, assuming it so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pack a bag,” he said to her suddenly. “Pack one and I’ll swing by in twenty minutes to pick you up and we’ll drive somewhere far away.” She laughed lightly, unsure if he was joking or not. Probably both, she imagined, but she liked the fantasy nonetheless. She was laying in her bed, in her pajamas with her stuffed rabbit-- Mr. Hopper-- poking at the tufts of fur that were missing having gone into the washing machine many times when she was little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would we go?” She asked, indulging the fantasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick a direction. Right or left. California, New York- either one is fine with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“California. Where’d we go there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santa Monica’s nice. Right on the ocean,” he told her. He wanted to take Veronica to see the ocean and play on the beach together. Someplace warm, away from all of this nastiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what would we do when we got there?” She asked him, playing along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get jobs, our own place… I don’t know, live. You and me. Just live.” She closed her eyes imagining the two of them coasting away from Sherwood in his car at high speed, the radio blaring on as they drove far, far, away. It was a really sweet fantasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to be able to do that,” she said, with a touch of truth. “But we can’t run forever.” He paused, knowing it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know there was a second camera,” he told her, his guilt weighing hard on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you have? I don’t blame you JD, I blame them. You must know that.” He didn’t respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are your parents responding?” He asked, changing the subject. She plucked at Mr. Hopper some more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re angry. Not at us though but at them. They were scared. The doctor told my mom if they had given me too much I might not have woken up.” Fear whipped through JD at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill them,” he told her, quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already hit them today,” she said sternly. “Even though you promised me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was before I saw they had pictures of you,” he told her, his anger barely in check. “And they were plastered for everyone to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please. They got suspended and they’ll be punished,” she told him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will they?” He challenged her, not having much faith in the system as a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to try first.” He sighed and acquiesced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. For you, for right now… I’ll hold it in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she told him, although the “for right now” didn’t abate her as much as she wanted it to. They didn’t speak. “My mother now knows we have sex,” she told him. That surprised him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Um, does your dad know too?” He asked, worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably. She doesn’t hide things from him.” He sighed internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just what he needed. He barely tolerates when I kiss her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d she, um, react?” He braced himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, she didn’t high five me but she’s not mad or ashamed or anything. Just surprised. She said dad’ll need a moment to probably get used to it but, well, not like I can really undo what we’ve done. Multiple times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true.” He was not looking forward to any confrontation this may lead to with her father. “Well, I should let you go to sleep,” he told her. “I’ll pick you up in the morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom’s excusing me for one more day. I’ll have to go in on Wednesday though. Hopefully… one more day will get it out of their systems.” He wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling when the allegations went public… he didn’t say anything though, not wanting to worry her in the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight. I love you,” she told him, suddenly. They didn’t gush it all the time to each other but she felt it necessary this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” he responded, wishing he was throwing his stuff in his car and driving to pick her up to run away for real.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Tuesday they were all sitting in a large meeting room. Her mother had informed her of the meeting earlier in the afternoon and that JD was asked to attend as well since she couldn’t remember much. Martha, Heather, Jeff, and Kyle all agreed to vouch for her if needed but weren’t asked to participate. It wasn’t lost on any of them that JD was the only student there without a guardian to speak for him. He was eighteen now though, legally he didn’t have to have one in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of the law, one thoroughly overwhelmed member of the Sherwood PD was present. Veronica had thought it was in case she needed to file charges but she would soon learn that was not his primary concern. She remembered all too clearly from the first time through her life they were not the most competent police force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room consisted of Veronica, her mother, her father, and JD on one end. On the other was Kurt, Ram, and their father’s. Veronica eyed them carefully. Vague memories of her first lifetime-- the one  where they had killed Kurt and Ram-- flitted through the recesses of her mind. It was strange seeing them without the faces of tragedy. These were the men as they were before, when they thought their sons had their whole lives ahead of them. As they settled in their chairs, Kurt’s dad hit his son in the shoulder. Kurt opened his jacket and plopped an envelope with the logo of the local mall’s one hour photo development place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is all of the copies you have?” Mr. Keene asked as he flipped through, counting the negatives to make sure there was none missing. Kurt didn’t answer. His dad punched him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s all of them.” Veronica knew there was no way to really know for sure and the uncertainty of that scared her. Mr. Keene eyed them carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we find out there are anymore floating around the consequences will mount.” Kurt nodded. Mr. Keene carefully handed the packet to Veronica. Carefully she put them in her purse. She would burn them later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you both have something to say to her?” Mr. Kelly told Kurt and Ram.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re sorry,” they both told her, in small scared voices. Veronica stared at them, unsure if they thought she was going to respond with an “apology accepted” or something equally ridiculous given the nature of their crime to her. JD let loose an involuntary snort. He was about to open his own mouth to tell them where they could stick their “sorries” when her father piped up, unimpressed as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know when we can officially file charges against these two.” Her father didn’t even look at Kurt and Ram in fear that his anger would get the best of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Mr. Sawyer. We still aren’t clear exactly what happened,” Principal Gowan interjected before Kurt or Ram’s dad had any momentum to counter back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed that was why this gentleman was here,” her father said confused. “And my daughter has already told you what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cop piped up. Officer Andy, that was his name, Veronica remembered. He had graduated five years ago but still awkwardly hung around the school if ever a cop was called to campus. He was the butt of many jokes around school. “If there were any illegal drugs involved, I am here to find out where they were obtained.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a moment for it to sink into Veronica properly. Sherwood’s PD were more concerned with a possible illegal drug selling ring than the potential these drugs had to assault young women. Including her own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Kurt’s dad said. “The pictures were a jerk move on the parts of the boys, and they were suspended for a week for it. I don’t really understand what else there is to say or how what they did was in any way shape or form worthy of filing charges.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They gave my daughter a drug to facilitate it,” Veronica’s father said, trying very hard to maintain his composure when all he really wanted to do was rage and hit these two boys, and now their fathers. Veronica’s mother was holding her hand, just upset that her daughter was violated the way she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, we don’t know any of that for sure, Mr. Sawyer,” Principal Gowan said. “And here at Westerberg we do not presume anyone is guilty until proven so. My understanding is Miss Sawyer doesn’t remember much from the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Dean, please tell the principal as calmly as you can, what happened," Mr. Keene told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD was calm, Veronica saw. A kind that was different than any she had seen him. It almost frightened her. “I had gone outside and came back in looking for her, when I couldn’t find her I was told they were at the party and bothering her. When I found her upstairs they had undressed her and were-” he swallowed very hard, his temper in check as much as he could, “they were photographing her. She was not of sound mind and body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and I believe you began assaulting the two of them," Mr. Sweeney shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This feels very much like we are being asked to take one person’s word over another,” Gowan said, much to the shock of everyone on Veronica’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God… they’re- they’re not- </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was starting to come to a proper realization. She blinked trying to keep the thought away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, they’ll believe me. They will because it’s the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heather McNamera reported rushing in after Mr. Dean and finding the boys with cameras in their hands,” Mr. Keene responded, having no idea how to resolve this. In his heart he wanted to expel these boys and was quite aware of the tone this whole meeting was on the verge of creating. “She said that she was out of it, not like someone who’d been drinking, but in a way that she didn’t know what was happening around her. Martha Dunstock, Jeff Ryan, and Kyle Miller also reported that Miss Sawyer had barely consumed any alcohol yet displayed characteristics of being beyond intoxicated and that these two young men dragged her upstairs without her consent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are their friends,” Ram piped up, even though he had been told to keep his mouth shut by his father, “of course they’d say that.” His father nudged him to remind him to quiet up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when her blood tests positive for the drug?” Her father asked, completely upset that the two of them were not currently in handcuffs. “We’re still waiting to find out the results from her doctor. My daughter could have died if they had given her too much!” The tension was mounting in the room and Gowan inserted himself between it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Sawyer! Please, throwing around accusations isn’t going to get this resolved!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Mr. Kelly said. “The boys say they didn’t put anything in her drink and there’s no way to prove that they did. Our sons say that it was all consensual and that she agreed to go upstairs with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a thought Veronica reached her arm out to JD to keep him from getting up, pissed and ready to let loose his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Her father responded. “My daughter is telling you it wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, I saw the pictures. We all know nice girls don't wear things like that if they're not ready, willing-" It was now her mother’s turn to grab her husband's arm and sit him down as he almost sprung out from his seat to attack the man as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears started to slide down Veronica’s cheeks. Her tunnel vision began, fresh. It was everything crashing down on her at once. It was her father’s indignation, her mother’s worry over her state, JD’s quiet and scary anger, and the absolute powerlessness she felt as she watched Kurt and Ram’s parents argue for their sons to be pardoned for the whole affair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In another life she had pitied Kurt and Ram’s dads. They had to bury their sons, they thought they had killed themselves in a suicide pact that were lies invented by herself and JD as revenge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What they had done that first time around had been wrong. But these were not those grieving fathers. They were the ones they had been before: desperate to keep their son’s futures on the right track.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Mr. Sawyer,” Principal Gowan spoke up. “Look, there are a lot of serious allegations being leveled in this room right now. The kind that could easily ruin two bright young boy’s futures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their futures?” JD responded. “You’re worried about their futures right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Young man, please. I know that since you are eighteen there is no obligation for a parent to be present here but seeing as how there isn’t one for you I think you may want to keep quiet,” Mr. Keene told him sternly, but not with malice. He was genuinely concerned for him as the only student involved in the incident with no one to advocate on his behalf he could be easily scapegoated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we just be honest here? Miss Sawyer barely remembers the night and she’s been consorting with a boy who’s not from our town and has had nothing but disciplinary actions since he started here," Gowan said. Veronica glanced in horror from one adult to the next in the room. “And if her blood test does come back positive and she was drugged how do we know for sure it was the boys? How do we know he didn’t give her the drug and things got out of hand from there? These things happen with kids.” Veronica stared at her hands, watching them begin to shake. She had trusted the system to work. JD’s left leg was twitching as his knuckles turned white at the insinuation that he had done this to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica couldn’t take it anymore. She just got up, tears flowing, and walked out of the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, please!” Her mother called after her, worried. JD got up and followed her out. Her mother wanted to follow her out too but her father held her hand out to stop her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let him try to talk to her first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica was leaning on the lockers outside of the administration’s office, crying freely. She glanced to her locker that had at one point been graffitied and saw it was clean. In front of her she saw the school’s custodian-- Willie-- emptying the trash cans. She wiped a tear and called to him, “thank you.” He turned and saw her, unsure what he was being thanked for. “For my locker. Thank you.” He realized she was the girl who’s locker he’d repainted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in his late fifties, and had a daughter older than Veronica and a baby granddaughter now. He nodded and smiled at her sympathetically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>These kids were so cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought to himself as he wheeled the maintenance cart away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD came out of the office and stood in front of her, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and caused more tears to flow out as she fell into his arms and they instinctively wrapped around her. “They’re not going to do anything,” she cried as he held her. “How can they sit there and worry so much about their future? They hurt me and they’re trying to implicate you. How--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear trying to comfort her. “Don’t stop crying. I’ve got you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to pack that bag,” she whispered through tears. “I want to run off with you.” He held her tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“California,” he remembered their conversation from the other night. “We’ll go to Santa Monica. We’ll play on the pier and run around on the beach.” He told her the fantasy, feeling more and more like it should be reality. “I want to take you to the ocean.” Something inside of him was turning, changing though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am going to do just that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But first...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wept into his coat for what felt like forever. When she could cry no more she looked up at him and saw a look on his face that terrified her. She stepped out of his arms and looked at him, his eyes on the door as it opened. “Go home with your parents, Veronica. I’ll make this all better, okay?” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, his hand caressing her cheek before whispering to her, “our love is God." He parted and stalked off down the hall, his coat billowing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica stood there blinking after him, her fingers on her lips with the ghost of his kiss still on her. Somehow time had passed and her mother and father were beside her and she saw the others who were now leaving the meeting too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d JD go?” She asked, concerned. “Come on sweetheart,” her mother said, wrapping her arm around her protectively. “We’ll tell you what happened after you walked out.” She wasn’t listening to her mother, her gaze went from Kurt and Ram looking smug to the dust where JD had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, JD no… </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay. That's an ending.</p><p>Coments, kudos... All loved, all welcome. As usual thanks to all those who have done so in the past.</p><p>Btw, I've been working on a Halloween chapter in the other part of the series but haven't quite hit it yet. It's basically a lot of talk about slashers and Sleepaway Camp and Slumber Party Massacre 2. I'll try to get it up before Halloween 🎃</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. To the Kill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica braves a blizzard.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! So, we're not too much further into the home stretch here (Only three or four more chapters including a loooong epilogue). I know I mentioned to some people in the comments a Halloween piece. I wrote, like, a set up for it. Hm. Probably try and get it out before Thanksgiving though. Sorry for the delays it's just been... a crazy week. Month. 2020, amirite?</p><p>So, the title comes from the Violent Femmes song "To the Kill" and the end quote is from Gravity's Rainbow by Pynchon which... I admit I have never read, I will not lie. I was looking for a solid quote about war and love and fell in love with it. But I own the book! It's on my shelf so people think I've read it and think I'm all intellectual! I haven't though. I really haven't.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>But if it's alright with you, and if it's alright, yes, I will.<br/></em>
    <em>Aw, c'mon, babe, go ahead to the kill.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>-Violent Femmes (To the Kill)</strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Wednesday Afternoon</b>
</p><p>
  <b>One Month Ago</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Injustice? You want to talk about injustice? The whole world is made up of injustice,” Dr. Beckett told JD as they talked Wednesday afternoon. “Turn on the news? Racism and sexism are still rampant in America, the home of the free. Nazi war criminals are found living comfortable lives in Argentina. God, what else? Aparthaid in South Africa? Unrest in Northern Ireland? Protesters murdered in  Tiananmen Square? Turn on the nightly news on any given day. Jesus, you could go mad being upset about the amount of injustice and cruelty of human beings to other human beings. But what are we supposed to do? What is one person supposed to do in the face of all that impossibility? Put a bomb in the basement and blow the establishment up?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Be a statement,” JD said out of nowhere, darkly. It didn’t scare the doctor. He had told him this was a safe space. One that he could tell him anything, even things that he would never say out loud to a friend or especially to Veronica. He had explained to JD that it was important to open himself up to her for the sake of their relationship, but he could always run it by him first to unpack it and make sure he didn’t scare her or worry her. The only stipulation he said was that if he genuinely thought he was going to harm someone or himself he was legally and morally obligated to report it, but only if he really thought he was going to do it and not just speculate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ever hear of the Weather Underground?” JD scrunched his face and thought.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, they blew a building up in New York or something back in the 70s, right?” He nodded. “Kidnapped Patty Hearst?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes on the Greenwich Village building, no on Patty Hearst. That was the SLA. They were… their own blend of crazy. Look, back when I was young a group of kids thought they’d bring the whole system down with bombs. Solve the problems of society. Get them to end the war, end racial injustice, fix poverty all by blowing up the establishment. And boy did they blow a lot of shit up. Killed some people too. Did it work?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Looks like the same world it was before."</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yup and they labeled those kids terrorists. Hell, I get it. In theory, who didn’t want the war to end, an end to racial injustice or to poverty? But-- how was planting a pipe bomb going to reach that goal? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You scare people into not being assholes?” JD suggested.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, did I miss it? Did people suddenly stop being assholes?” JD didn’t respond. “No. Exactly how they thought blowing up a building was going to end the war in Vietnam I will never understand. All it did was lead to the right going more right, the old guard going more old guard. That’s my point. They let their hate and anger at injustice eat them alive and commit acts of terror. People died-- and not their intended targets. You suggest using bombs to elicit change? Bullshit. Bombs don’t work.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah but, I’m sorry- your generation may have been good at playing revolutionaries, but I want an actual one. One that will finally get rid of all the sick fucks that make life miserable for the good people in this world.” Dr. Beckett laughed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t kid with yourself. Aren’t you just another toy soldier? Dressed in black, combat boots, and a long coat? Isn’t that a costume? Your entire attitude. It’s just a play act too?” He leaned forward and looked at him, JD averting his eyes. “The secret is: there is no war to be fought. The real secret is you’re not a soldier, you’re just a person trying to carve out what slice of happiness you can for as long as you can.” </span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Tuesday Night<br/></b>
  <b>After the Meeting</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica was in the back seat of her parents car trying to focus on the here and now. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe Veronica, Breathe.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After what happened with his dad Veronica was convinced that the need to commit a violent act had left JD. He was better, so much better than that now. It had taken a lot of time for her to understand it all but without the negative energy and unresolved issues of tension with his father JD had had such a large weight off of his shoulders. He had someone to talk to about all of his emotions and feelings now-- someone to help him manage his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not that boy anymore. He’s just not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew how to love her the way she deserved to be loved and to accept her love the right way too. And they hadn’t given Heather Chandler a wake up cup of liquid plumber and he had never seen how easy it was to kill and not be caught. He was out from under his dad’s thumb. He had friends. He had plans! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They </span>
  </em>
  <span>had plans! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For god’s sake, he had seen his eighteenth birthday. He was taking me to the prom, not to hell.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was before Kurt and Ram had violated her, hung the pictures on her locker for everyone to see, and the school-- and what was looking like the law-- pretty much let them off the hook. She closed her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I trust him. I trust him. Just because he said what he said at the end…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t mean what I think it means. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When she opened them she saw her mother glancing at her in the dashboard mirror nervously. She averted her gaze, it was starting to snow outside. Big chunky globs that were sticking to the windshield that the wipers kept knocking back. Normally that would excite her, she loved snow and blizzards. A childish glee would fill her at the thought of a snow day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But right now things weren't fun or exciting. She met her mom's gaze in the mirror. Her parents had been nothing but loving to her and revolted by the frightening event that had occurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, it's coming down out there," she mumbled, noticing the snow. "You should have stayed a few moments longer,” her mother told her proudly. “After Jason chased after you, your father defended him quite adamantly.” She reached over and affectionately rubbed his shoulder. Her father bristled as he drove, slowing down as the snow was starting to stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did?” Veronica asked, temporarily distracted from her thoughts and worries. Her father may have not been quite so anti-JD lately but she didn’t think that he would defend her boyfriend. Especially since he had recently been made aware of the fact that he was having sex with his daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just said he took care of you and would never do anything like that to you. Unlike those two boys who are trash.” Veronica wished JD had heard him say that. JD, who thought her father hated him, needed to hear him say that. “Veronica, he got you out of that horrible place and stayed with you that entire night to make sure you were okay and took care of you the next morning. I’m still not extremely crazy about him,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>or the fact that he has sex with my daughter,</span>
  </em>
  <span> “but I do not fear for your safety with him. He does… care for you deeply,” her father admitted. Veronica blinked in surprise. He must be very mad at Kurt, Ram, and their parents to defend JD like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was more discussion after you walked out,” her mother told her. “Those two are suspended until we get the blood test back. We can proceed from there if it uncovers anything. This all is a mess honey, I’m sorry. That awful principal of yours-- I’m sorry but he is-- he seems hellbent on protecting those two. Your father and I will try to have the police department find a way to charge them with a crime but- but since they didn’t- well, since you said that they didn’t- um, do anything worse than take </span>
  <em>
    <span>pictures,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she spat the word out, “they don’t think there is anything they can charge them with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Since they didn’t rape you, the police don’t see what the fuss is about, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was what her mother was trying not to say. It was awful, all around. What was done to her daughter was reprehensible. It still scared the daylights out of her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>if they had given her too much she’d be dead. That whole situation could easily have led to her seriously injured or dead. How is that not illegal? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was so hard for her parents to understand why those two weren’t in handcuffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica nodded, suddenly realizing that honestly, they could get away with what they did to her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But that doesn’t mean we take our own vengeance. Is it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shook her head, wedging that thought out. In another time, another life maybe-- maybe-- she’d been on board with that but in this one? She’d seen what happens when you get revenge. And yes, she was less sympathetic to the two people as a concept and very much doubted that they had any room to change and grow into better people but she remembered a truth: taking revenge doesn’t fix the problem in the long term. Veronica knew from her last lifetime that revenge was only going to bring her and JD down a spiraling path they’d never find their way out of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though I do not trust that officer who looked like he was your age one bit,” her mother said. “I’m going to talk to someone in the police department higher up or at least less Barney Fife-ish as soon as I can. Maybe we should contact the county DA directly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a bad idea,” her dad agreed. “I do the police chief’s taxes. I have his home number somewhere in my files.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica sat in the back seat looking back and forth from each of her parent’s heads. How many car rides as a kid with them had she done that? “I love you two,” she said quietly. “You know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, what was that honey?” Her mom asked, interrupting her plans for finding a higher authority to see action done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” Veronica looked at her hands, which she wished would stop shaking. “I love you. Thank you for believing me, for… I don’t know, just being you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom turned in her seat and stuck her hand out and Veronica took it. She squeezed it. “Oh honey, of course. You’re our daughter and we love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing that will ever change that peanut,” her father said. “We’ll always stick up for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And thank you for sticking up for JD too,” she told him quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I doubt someone has in a long time. I figured someone should occasionally,” he told her without any regret. She reached over and put her arms around him as he pulled into the driveway, hugging him. He gently accepted it and patted her arms comfortingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got inside her mother offered her ice cream but she declined-- much to her ice cream loving surprise-- and went upstairs and sat at her desk. She stared at her diary. She had been on a bit of a quiet break from writing inside of it but she cracked it open. Her last entry was from January. She smiled. In it she described a night at the movies with JD, Heather, and Kyle. It was fun. They’d seen Christmas Vacation and went for pizza afterwards. Heather and she laughed as they watched the boys pour money in the Ms. PacMan machine and then they all took turns at pinball. JD had been suitably impressed with her having the highest score out of the lot of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they separated he had driven her up to a make out spot even though it was freezing. His car was pretty warm though. She didn’t go into extreme detail-- owing to the blushing factor and her constant worry her mother’s curiosity might over power her respect of the diary and read it-- but mostly focused on how they laid together in the back , his arms around her and his coat draped over her body like a blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you cold?” He asked. “I could take you home or we could go back to my place until your curfew.” She groaned and snuggled into his embrace.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I like your bed but I also like being back here with you. The winter stars are always the prettiest and brightest to look at. And your arms are warm.” He tightened his embrace and kissed her head. She could see them from out his window at the angle he was holding her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m terrible at figuring out which is which. None of them look like what they’re supposed to look like.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was a nerd about it when I was little,” she admitted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? You? Miss genius 4.0 a-- gasp!-- nerd about astronomy?” He teased. She elbowed him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up. I just went all the way with you for the billionth time. Be careful or you won’t get a billion and one,” she teased back. It was an empty threat. He knew she liked it as much as he did and denying him would be denying herself. “Anyway. That one’s Cassiopeia,” she told him. “She was a real winner. Shooting her mouth off over how much hotter she was than Poseidon’s daughters. Real rookie move. He ended up sending a sea monster to terrorize the coast because of her then dickishly decided to sacrifice her daughter to get it to go away.” She pointed to another one. “And there’s Perseus and his flying horse Pegasus,” she pointed again. “And… over there is Andromeda. His true love. Perseus’s I mean, not his horse’s.” He laughed. “I liked the Perseus stories the best.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t he kill Medusa? And rescue her from a monster?” He asked, stroking his hands down her arms and idly kissing her head. He vaguely recalled a picture book from his childhood his mother had read with him about monsters and heroes as a small boy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes!” She told him excitedly. “He flew in on his horse Pegasus and slew the mighty sea monster. And afterwards they fell madly in love even though she was engaged to some real loser. But it worked out, of course. He totally showed him the head of Medusa, turned him to stone, and they got to live happily ever after.” He smiled, liking the sound of that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d kill a sea monster for you,” he told her in a far more serious tone than she thought such a supposition should. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You would, huh?” She told him as she turned in his arms-- well, as best she could they were in the backseat of his car-- and straddled him. He settled against his back seat and she bent her head. True, his bed in his basement was more comfortable but she liked seeing the stars. She smiled before leaning in to kiss him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you were being held captive by a sea monster? I’d absolutely fly in on a horse to rescue you,” he told her without a hint of humor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s sweet, but there seems to be a decided lack of mythical beasts nowadays to slay in my honor.” His hands moved up her body, lightly skimming her bare torso, touching it the way she liked. Her body responded and he himself rose to the occasion. He had paid attention, he had learned the idiosyncrasies of what she liked and didn’t like. Any awkwardness in their physical relationship early on had melted away into a kinetic frenzy, an intense emotional and physical experience between two people who cared deeply for each other and  fitted together so well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I liked the part when Perseus cut off the head of the Medusa,” he admitted to her as their bodies rocked back and forth, his hand between them to help her along.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course you did,” she laughed. She adjusted her body and sighed when the angle was a bit more pleasing. “Make it quick babe,” she breathed in his ear. “It’s freezing in here.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What every guy wants to hear.” Their giggles were soon silenced by the sounds of their breath, moans, and other noises of pleasure that fogged up the windows around them enveloping them in a sweet fog that fell over the both of them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She picked up her pen and started a new journal entry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Diary,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JD once told me he’d slay a beast for me. That’s just one of those things guys say, right? Sexy pillow talk? He’s protective, which I like, but-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped and started a new sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JD is a completely different guy than the one I used to know. Especially since moving away from his dad. God, what Kurt and Ram did to me… it was worse than what they did last time-- not that last time what they did had been harmless-- and I’d be lying if I didn’t understand where that hurt, rage, and powerlessness feeling came from. Can I lie to myself and say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind? That I too didn’t briefly wish them dead for the crime they committed against me? That a twinge of regret hadn’t entered my soul, knowing that in the act of making sure they lived this time around I had invited them to commit an even worse crime against me? To know that they were capable of this? That-- oh god-- they could do it to someone else? That they could go on to-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused in her writing, holding back the emotion.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. No. What they did was heinous and my anger and rage and-- god, yes!-- even hate are justified. But taking vengeance? No. I saw it first hand. God, it’s stupid but all I keep thinking about is Yoda’s line: </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Once you start down the dark path forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I saw it do that. I saw it consume the two of us last time. I was able to pull myself out of it, but JD...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered as the image far in the recesses of her memory of him firing a gun, and of a bomb exploding flashed in front of her like a slideshow. She glanced at her clock. It was eight o’clock now and the snow had begun falling in earnest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if school would be closed tomorrow. Normally a snow day would excite her but it was hard to think about given the situation. She began staring at the cordless willing it to ring, willing it to be JD calling her to see how she was, assuring her he wasn’t about to do anything he would regret. She picked up the phone and dialed him to no answer. Frustrated, she tried JD again. No answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She went back to her diary.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JD told me tonight that, “our love is God.” What does that even mean? I know what it meant the last time around. After seeing death not touch him after Heather Chandler’s accidental-on-purpose homicide/suicide he had thought himself God, that him and I and our relationship were the only things that mattered. It was narcissistic, not selfless. In his mind he had twisted our feelings and emotions. He had gone over the edge. JD had anger inside of him back then, real hard anger that ended up destroying him, me, and us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not that boy. Definitely not. The JD he’d become in the months longer in his life and especially in the ones moving away from his destructive and toxic relationship with his dad had friends, and could empathize with others. When he’s being loving with me he gives his whole heart into it, completely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d die for me, yes but I’d die for him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The thing is? I don’t want to have to die for him or vice versa. There shouldn’t be any dying! I told him once dying for someone was easy, living for them was hard. I want him to live for me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, that sounds so cheesy but it’s true.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Diary, I don’t know if this is my last entry here. It might be. I probably should burn the book, burn all the crazy it contains. I don’t know. I thought it was over, I thought we had forged a new path. Will we never be free from this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She put her pen down and paced. She changed into a warm pair of sweatpants and sweater as she watched the snow come down from her window filling up her yard. With the few house lights and street lights on the whole yard looked other worldly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried his phone a few more times but he still wasn’t answering. She checked her clock:  nine PM. She snuck her head out of her room but didn’t hear the TV and the door to her parent’s room was closed which meant they were probably reading or about to fall asleep. </span>
  <span>Against all sense of safety and sanity she put her boots on and grabbed her winter clothes. There was no way she could go to sleep with this unsettled. As quietly as she could she snuck out of the house, wrapped a scarf around her head and started the trek to JD’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold and the snow barely fazed her, she was so determined in her mission. It wasn’t the longest distance in the world-- about a 30 minute walk on a nice day-- but the snow was really coming down and visibility was becoming an issue. She kept blinking globs of snow out of her eyes but she kept on moving anyway, determined. She realized as long as she kept moving she couldn’t feel the cold really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About halfway there she realized maybe it had been a bad move on her part but she persisted regardless. Yes, a bad move, especially when she was blinded by the lights of a truck coming down the unplowed streets slowly and the sidewalk was not shoveled. Luckily she hopped into the snow in time. She was still determined and trudged forward being pushed forward on blind concern and worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw his car parked in the driveway next to Kyle’s mom’s which made her relieved. Not that going anywhere in this weather was probably advisable. The windows that were partially visible above ground showed the lights were on. She tapped on them to get his attention. Shocked, he rushed to the back door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JD had his own entrance in the back of the house and opened the door. There was a small awning she was waiting under. He clutched his arms to his body as he felt the wall of cold hit him. The temperature had dropped since he’d gotten back from the school and the snow began. “Veronica?” He called. “Is that-?” Without warning she flung herself into his arms and he caught her. “Oh my God, did you walk over here by yourself in this? They haven’t even started plowing yet!” He clutched her cold, wet body and suddenly she felt the cold and the frozen water all over her body and she started shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to- I had to see you. Make sure-” Her teeth were rattling now and she was weak in the knees. Worried she was going to pass out he swore and hooked his arm under her knees and picked her up, cradling her against his body. He brought her in and kicked the door shut behind him. He brought her inside and set her down on his couch. She was shaking as he peeled her coat off and her dripping wet snow crusted scarf, hat, gloves. He walked them over to the dryer and tossed them in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take off those boots and wet clothes,” he told her. He took them from her and tossed them in as well, her boots he placed by the door to dry. She sat on his couch practically naked in just her underwear. She’d been in a state of undress in front of him before but the circumstances now were decidedly different. Aware of this, he grabbed a shirt off the stack of clean ones on his couch and handed her his Smith’s black t-shirt. “That’s the clean pile,” he told her as she stared at it. She slipped it on over her head and instantly felt warmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into my head,” she told him, the warmth returning to her limbs. He stared at her, confused. “Coming over here like this, I mean. I don’t-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>The way you acted, the words you said to me. What are you planning? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wanted to ask him, but sitting in his clean, dry shirt in his warm basement as the snow fell around them outside she felt the bubble of warmth and safety she always felt in his presence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I overreacted? Maybe it didn’t mean what I thought it meant.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at her, her black hair tangled and still wet from the snow, some flakes not having melted yet. He went to his bathroom and found a brush she had left at his place and handed it to her. She touched her hair gingerly not even realizing it was sopping wet and a mess. She remembered her mother warning her as a child not to go to bed with wet hair. Carefully she started tugging the brush through it, detangling it and helping it dry. “Thanks,” she told him. She sighed. “Is it okay that I’m here? Will Kyle’s mom be mad? I hope I didn’t wake them upstairs.” He shook his head and smiled at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She probably doesn’t realize. They can’t hear much down here. See the black stuff on the wall?” She nodded. “Sound proofing. Kyle’s brother liked to practice his guitar down here. It’s pretty quiet to them in here, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good. I wouldn’t want to wake them or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, all good.” He touched her face tenderly causing a small smile. “I can make some hot chocolate or something. I have packets in my cupboard.” She nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kind with the fake marshmallows?” She asked, hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he told her with a slight smile. “That’s the only kind I buy.” She smiled back. Maybe that was all she needed: a minute alone with JD and a cup of hot chocolate. That was the ticket to reclaiming her sanity. All that worry, all that fear… how could she have ever doubted his change? How could she doubt a guy that’s first thought when he saw her cold and wet on his doorstep was to get her warm dry clothes and make her a hot chocolate? The kind with the fake marshmallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to fill his electric kettle with water. As she finished combing her hair she felt life come back into her arms and legs. She couldn’t believe she had really walked all the way over in what was shaping into a proper blizzard. The basement wasn’t the warmest in the house but she remembered JD had a space heater and got up to find it to turn it on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hunted around until she found it and plugged it in. As it came to life she rubbed her hands and put them over it as if it were a roaring fire. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She asked, realizing she had called several times. “I tried calling all night.” He turned from his preparations and blinked at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t hear it ring,” he told her truthfully. She glanced around and saw his own cordless on the dresser. She picked it up and tried turning it on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s dead,” she told him. Suddenly she started feeling very foolish indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to leave it on the charger bed.” She walked it over to where the bed was plugged into the phone line and rested it on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All that panic...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She noticed the stack of clean shirts on the couch that rested against the back wall-- where he had grabbed the shirt she was wearing from-- and smiled. He did his laundry but he always forgot to fold it and put it away. Carefully she picked one up after the other and folded them. She walked them over to his dresser to put away. As she did she felt her hand brush against something hard and metal. The fear and the panic returned to her in an instant as vertigo set in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had brushed the clothes in his drawer to the side and dropped the clean ones in haphazardly. Staring back at her was a gun and a box of bullets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica blinked a few times, her panic returning in full force as she closed the drawer. He hadn’t noticed. He walked over to her and pulled her body close to his from behind with one arm and held the hot chocolate for her with the other. Without thinking she took it. It was too hot to touch though and she put it on top of his dresser robotically. He kissed her neck delicately and nuzzled his warm face against her. He hadn’t shaved and had the start of some facial hair. It tickled against her soft skin. “Stop fussing with my laundry and get under the blankets,” he whispered in her ear. “We can talk or just watch mindless TV while I warm you up. Whatever you need.” He kept kissing her and she closed her eyes, trying to fight her own reaction her body felt to his. He knew her physical attraction to him-- and his to her-- was strong. She had to fight back against how good his body felt pressed against hers. She wished they could just do that. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle in his bed and watch an old movie they found on TV, maybe something cheesy they could goof on while drinking hot chocolate. She wanted her boyfriend. The one that made her laugh. The one she had been with for over six months that made her happy. “Anything you want from me right now, I’ll give you. I love you,” he whispered against her skin as the hand on her stomach dipped underneath the loose shirt she was wearing and into her underwear, lightly brushing his forefinger across her intimately. “Is this what you want from me?” He whispered against her neck. "I want to make you feel good." He knew her body well, knew normally that would turn her on indeed, especially when his other hand found her breast and played with the stiff nipple he felt even with the fabric of the thin shirt and bra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not tonight though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gun. There was a fucking gun in his dresser drawer. That was it. If his intention was to comfort her he horrifically missed his mark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” she told him in a low and scary voice, finding her courage. Immediately he backed off. He never would touch her like that without her consent. Especially not after what just happened to her. Not understanding he backed away, confused. “And don’t tell me you love me. And what I want from you? It’s not that! It’s the truth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, did I hurt you? Or do something wrong? I’m sorry. I- usually you’re comforted by sex. I really thought that’s what you wanted right now,” he told her, honestly afraid he upset her. “I didn’t mean to-” He stopped as he watched her open the drawer and she pointed at the gun and bullets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. I didn’t want you to find that.” He tried to lean over her and take it, but she had already picked it up and clutched it tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” she told him quite shortly. “Not really a great hiding spot JD, is it? You know I like to fuss over you about your laundry.” Angry tears pricked in her eyes. “You know… I like to fuss over you,” she told him, choking up, tears threatening to come down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you’d be over tonight,” he told her quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry!” She said, trying to control the tears but her anger peppered through. “I’m sorry if my complete mental breakdown tonight interfered with whatever your plan was!” She spat the words at him and he flinched, like she had hit him with her fists. She was shaking. He reached his arms out desperate to comfort her and take the gun from her but she wouldn’t let him. She turned the weight in her hand, staring at the instrument of death. She didn’t get it. She just didn’t get why he would need one of these in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, just give me the gun and I’ll explain. I’ll explain everything and you’ll see-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what? ‘I’ll make this all better.’ What was the plan JD? Was this ‘making it better’ for me?” She held it up. He reached over and she let him take it from her. She hated holding it, hated the weight of it. The memory of him pointing it at his father not that long from her mind. The memory of him almost pulling the trigger was still fresh as well. Not to mention a previous life’s memory of him twirling it around like a toy and him playing vigilante with a real gun and real bullets. Kurt and Ram dead in the graveyard. “What the hell are you doing with a gun? Where did you even get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad had two,” he admitted. “Grandpa, I mean. He left us a set of two. We locked up one… and I took the other,” he admitted, truthfully. “Just in case.” Veronica’s head swam. After all that had happened. After that entire horrific confrontation with his father. He had kept the second gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just in case of what?” She asked. She flashed back to September, when they’d had their first fight over guns. It never occurred to her that they had never finished that argument. She had told him she loved him, and he back and then… well, he agreed to go to the therapist. But he had never agreed to put the guns away for good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus, why didn’t she ever follow up on that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess in case of this.” He tried again to reach out to touch her. “Veronica, I can explain. Please-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” She told him, backing away from him. He wasn’t going to touch her right now. She knew herself and once she was in his arms, touching him, she would lose her anger. He could always sooth her anger, fear, or worry with his warm touch and often that was wonderful. She loved that he could comfort her. She loved feeling loved, safe, and protected by him. She loved him, absolutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she needed her own anger at the moment. “How many times do I need to beg you? To make you promise me you aren't going to hurt them?” She was shivering and cold, arguing with him in just his t-shirt that hit her mid thigh and underwear, with wet hair. But her shivering was from more than just the snowstorm she’d been out in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still wet and freezing, get under the blankets. I’ll explain everything. I-” She couldn’t handle JD being considerate about her welfare when he had a gun and was completely planning to get revenge on her attackers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you doing this for?” She asked him, angry at herself now too. She knew she needed to make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him if he wanted to have a gun around. “Me? Because  I told you I don’t want you to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica,” he said quietly. “I lo-” he stopped himself. She didn’t want him to tell her he loved her. “Understand, okay? You know they’re going to just keep doing it. Their whole fucking lives. You think they’ll change? You think they’ll become model citizens one day? Friday night it was drugging you to take pictures, what makes you think next time it won’t be worse? Not just to you! What about some other poor girl? One that isn’t lucky enough to have someone find her in time?” Veronica shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say to that? You’re right?” It was all thoughts that had gone through her mind earlier too. But. “You absolutely are right about that. I know! But that doesn’t mean you have to be the one to do it! To stop them! How in the hell is it going to make what they did to me right?” He shook his head and continued to hold the gun. “But this isn’t about me, is it?” She asked him, but he didn’t respond. “Is it?!” She barked at him as he turned away from her. “Goddammit JD look at me!” He paused momentarily. “This is about you, isn’t it? You’re anger at them, you’re-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, I’m doing this for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh cut the crap you are not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He admitted quietly. “I’m angry at myself.” She stood there, startled. Startled he would admit it to her properly. “Yes, those fuckers are fuckers but I’m angry at myself too. You’re my girl to protect,” he told her quietly. “I wasn’t there to stop them. I didn’t make sure there were no other pictures of you. I fucked up protecting you once, I’m not going to do that a second time. If they aren’t going to make them pay then I will,” he said, showing her the gun. “And I’ll make sure they don’t do it again. To anyone.” Veronica shook her head slowly as he stood in front of her. He turned from her, unable to let himself see the pain on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me once that if I thought you might hurt me that I should leave you.” He turned his gaze directly to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asked, stunned. She started shaking, her voice quivering. She realized if she loved him she had to do it. If she wanted to try and save his soul then she’d have to give him the ultimatum. She gave it to him once in another life and it wasn’t enough, but he was different. He was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me once that I should leave you, if you hurt me. You made me promise, Remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face fell. “If I hurt you than absolutely, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hurting me. You’re hurting me in the worst way possible. JD, if you do this. If you get your own vengeance on Kurt and Ram with that gun. Than- Than yes,” she said resolutely. “Yes. I’m leaving you.” Veronica stood in front of him, shaking. She knew how she must look to him: scared, wet, and barely dressed in her bare feet. Breaking up, leaving him, it was the last thing she wanted. This would break her heart just as much as his. She couldn’t be scared though. She had to stand her ground against him on this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted the best version of him. And the boy with the gun? That was the worst version of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you breaking up with me?” He asked, staring at her scared now himself. The gun was almost forgotten in his mind. The vengeance he wanted pushed aside. What was important was that the most important person in his life was about to walk out on him. She was going to walk out on him because of the decisions he wanted to make. Not just any girl: Veronica Sawyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Veronica Sawyer that laughed at his jokes and made him laugh. The Veronica Sawyer that made him have fun and helped him make friends kicking and screaming but loving it nonetheless. The Veronica Sawyer that helped him get help. The Veronica Sawyer that loved him with her whole heart and he loved back fully too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Veronica Sawyer was the light in his life, and when she kissed him his whole body felt warm. No, not his body, his soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could not leave him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If- if you do this- yes. Yes I am. I won’t be with a guy who is capable of really hurting someone,” she told him, standing her ground. “JD,” she said, her voice cracking under the emotion, “you’re really scaring me,” she told him, shaking. </span>
  <span>“Can’t you see? You’re breaking my heart right now,” she said, as the tears came down her cheeks. He could. Tears formed in his own eyes at the idea of it. It wasn’t Kurt and Ram who did this to her now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> was breaking her heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>was making her cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he whispered. “Veronica, I-” He tried to reach out and touch her cheek-- instinct was kicking in to wipe away her tears-- but she stepped back again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, I can’t let him touch me yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“JD,” she said tenderly. “Kurt and Ram aren’t mythical sea beasts you need to slay for my honor. They’re two boys. Two dumb fuckwads… but humans at the end of the day.” She was ready to touch him, ready to try to use her own form of tenderness to get through to him. She reached out and touched his cheek, holding it. Carefully she brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. He closed his eyes and savored the touch, gently resting his own hand over hers. “Do you think that I like that they may get away with this? That they could do this- do this to some other girl?” She shook her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Taking justice into your own hands isn’t justice, it’s revenge and revenge will never satisfy you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I don’t. But I don’t need you to do this to make it all better. What I need is you. Just you. I need you to listen to me if I need to talk. I need you to hold me if I need to be held. I need you to be in my corner, making sure I’m not going crazy, reminding me that what they did was not some harmless prank when others tell me it was. Those are the things I would always do for you, and I want them in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes tight and opened them, his face of a jumble of emotions. She held his gaze before he finally put the gun down on the couch. It wasn’t enough. She needed to know he understood. She pressed on. “Do you remember that awful day? That awful, awful day we got your things from your dad’s?” JD nodded, remembering the gun in his hand that was pointed at his father. The gun that could have missed and hit her. “I feel like it’s happening again. After that day, after that moment… I mean, do you really want to do this?” He stared at her for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he broke. The fog of anger and rage disappeared and what was left was JD. Regular JD with his sober thoughts. He shook his head. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he told her with genuine anguish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me,” she persisted. “Swear to me that you’re not going to murder them,” she told him. His face changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Murder?” He asked, suddenly confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Promise me you won’t shoot Kurt and Ram in revenge. I need you to say it outright. I need to know you’re not capable of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t planning on murdering them. Oh my god, you thought...” He looked stricken. From the gun to her face. “Oh god, Veronica. No. No, no, no, no. Believe me. Please.” She was confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what then was the gun for? The bullets?” He walked over to the drawer and showed her the box. He held it up. It was a box of blank cartridges. He opened it up and showed her. They were indeed blanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was gonna use blanks,” he explained. “That was my plan. I was going to threaten them, tell them to put in writing what they did to you, where they got the drugs. If the police won’t arrest them for hurting you or assault then they can get them for illegally buying drugs. I was going to fire the blanks at them. I wanted to scare the shit out of them. Make ‘em piss their pants,” he said, trying to control his anger. “Make ‘em just think next time it’ll be real bullets. I was going to humiliate them. Get them to take off their clothes against their will. Take pictures of them. See how they like it if the whole school sees them like that. Probably beat them up too. I’m not gonna lie and say it was a really well thought out plan.” He closed his eyes. “I was planning on hurting them. Hurting them really bad, but not killing them. Please believe me.” She hit his chest in frustration. “Veronica, I’m angry. Really angry. I’m not gonna lie to you: yes, the thought genuinely crossed my mind but wanting someone dead and actually killing them are two separate things.” She wasn’t quite satisfied though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can still kill someone with a blank idiot!” She told him. Maybe he wasn’t going to do the worst, but his plan was still horrible. “Blanks are empty shell casings that make an explosion! That close you can still hurt them!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face furrowed as he realized what he almost was about to do. What he realized now he was capable of if the anger was there to motivate him, if he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Maybe he hadn’t planned on committing a pre-meditated murder, but accidental homicide was not an impossibility. Who knows what he was capable of if he let his anger take over and drive. He stared at his hands, trying to come to terms with that. That wasn’t who he was, that wasn’t who he wanted to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew instantly he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he became that monster. Veronica would never and should never be around that kind of monster. She was right, if he did this then she should leave him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He admitted to a lot of dark thoughts with Dr. Beckett, many he’d never tell Veronica but… at the end of the day he knew he was no real murderer. Maybe if circumstances were different but… no. Not now. He wanted more out of life. He wanted a future. A future with Veronica. He wasn't alone. He had her and he had friends. He wasn't a lonely monster like Frankenstein striking against others because he was all alone. He held his breath and then let it out in short bursts. Veronica thought he was hyperventilating but he calmed himself, even if his hands were shaking. Without thinking he reached out for her and dragged her close. At first she wasn’t sure if she should allow the physical contact yet, but the next words out of his mouth made her stop dead. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her as she held him. “I’ll get rid of the gun. I promise. I won’t go after them, I swear. I’m sorry.” She sniffled as they held each other. “The police station in the city will take them anonymously to get them off the streets. You can watch me do it to make sure. I swear to you. I don’t want anything to do with a gun ever again if I can help it. Not if I could hurt someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood in his arms stiff, still unsure if she should truly believe him. It wasn’t until she felt the ground practically move under her feet and the whole universe around her seem to be on a true course correction.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Change. Holy shit, this was what I've been waiting for. This was the major change. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could feel it in her fingertips and her toes, her heart and her soul. They had done it. They had broken the cycle of anger, hate, and violence. It wasn’t enough to get him away from his father, that was only a part of it. JD had to come to terms with the idea that if he didn’t check himself periodically he could really be the monster he was capable of being. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered what she had thought before, when she first got this opportunity to change this: </span>
  <em>
    <span>JD was capable of being a murderer, but not culpable until he actually did it. Hell, so could I.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled out of his embrace but only so that she could lead him inexorably to his bed. Carefully she began to undress him. He allowed her, almost like he was a child being helped to bed. When he was as unclothed as she was she pulled him down and into his bed with her. She lifted the blankets and they settled underneath them, and she pulled his arm around her. “Can we just hold each other for a little bit?” She asked, trying to come to terms with what was now happening. "This is a lot and I- we-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I know," he whispered to her, wrapping her close to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had changed. He had changed. Sure she had made some suggestions, offered support and help… but he changed himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later she asked him quietly, “JD?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Our love is God.’ Why did you say that to me?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earlier, at school. Before you left. You’ve never said that to me before.” <em>In</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>this life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Why did you say it to me when you left the meeting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and rubbed his thumb over the crook of her elbow. “Something in me… I don’t know… snapped I guess in that moment. Seeing their smug faces, hearing them pass the blame on you. Trying to suggest it was me.” He closed his eyes, trying not to let the rage overtake him again. “I don’t know, it just came to my mind.” He breathed out. “I just thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we are so much better than them. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t know where it came from. I can’t apologize enough for scarring you. God, I’m sorry,” he told her, meaning it. “I have to accept that I’m capable of something so… I don’t know. When I talk to Dr. Beckett tomorrow we’ll talk about this,” he resolved. “I’ll talk about it and keep talking about it. I want to do everything in my power to not go to that dark place ever again,” he resolved. “Not just for you-- though that’s a big part of it-- but for my own sanity. God.” She turned in his arms and looked into his face. Carefully she touched his hair and looked into his soulful hazel eyes. They were so sharp, so full of life and intelligence. The idea that they could go dark… They wouldn’t. Not anytime soon. She trusted him now. They wouldn’t. “Not when you need me. And I will. Whatever you need from me I want to give you. You're always there for me. I need to always be there for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She played with a tuft of his own hair, just like how he liked playing with the little tuft of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JD? Tell me something. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>ich luge</span>
  </em>
  <span> bullets mean anything to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asked, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and repeated the story to him. “During World War Two, when the Russians invaded Berlin did the Nazis use bullets that pierced the skin, made them bleed a little, but didn’t kill them, so it looked like they committed suicide?” He turned her in his arms and looked at her like she was crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? <em>Ich luge</em> bullets? Magic bullets that make it look like a suicide but are tranqs? No, that’s stupid. What kind of asshole told you that? <em>Ich luge</em> is German for ‘I lie,’” he told her. She laughed, accepting finally that the past was over and they were forging a new future. This was a new JD in front of her, the one he was always meant to be. And she was a new Veronica, the one she was always meant to be. Gently, she brushed some of his hair from his face and leaned in and kissed him. She smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. A total absolute asshole who thought that he was cool told me that once.” She laid back down on his chest and gently played with some of the hairs on his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was confused. “Well, I don’t think I like the idea of you hanging around assholes that say shit like that to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” she told him. “Thank god I never will again.” They were silent for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me. Are you okay?” He asked, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be,” she told him honestly. “I think it’s time to admit I might need someone to talk to myself too. I know I told you I want to open up to you but I can’t lean on you for everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll find someone,” he resolved. “Hey, and we’ll support each other, right?” He chucked her chin and she laughed. “You and me, with our backs against each other making sure the other's okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Yeah that sounds good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone rang, startling both of them. JD reached over and answered it, unsure who it could be at that hour. “Hello?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jason, please tell me Veronica is with you,” an adult male voice asked worriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, she’s right here,” JD told him, much to the voice’s relief. “I’ll put her on.” He passed the phone to Veronica. “It’s your dad.” Veronica swore. It hadn’t even entered her mind the worry she would cause her parents leaving the house like she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad? I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, did you walk all the way there?” He asked, scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes- I- I wasn’t thinking, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a blizzard out there!” He admonished, trying to keep the scold from his voice, but unable to do so. “You’re mother and I were frantic. She knocked on your door a few minutes ago to say goodnight and to see how you were-” Veronica closed her eyes in guilt imagining her mother wanting to tuck her in for old time’s sake, “-and when she didn’t see you there-” He swallowed. Veronica closed her eyes, the guilt overwhelming her. “After what happened to you, we were so worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, tell her how sorry I am. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t,” she told him quickly. Her father sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down. You’re okay though, right? You didn’t hurt yourself walking out there in this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m alright. JD got me out of the wet clothes and made me hot chocolate.” She bit her tongue in regret realizing how that might sound. Her father chose to ignore it. She also chose to omit the rest of the discussion or what passed between them that night. That was between her and JD.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kind with the fake marshmallows?” He asked, knowing it was her favorite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” She swung her legs out of bed to go get her clothes from the dryer. “He can drive me home right now. I’m sorry.” On that statement JD reached for his own clothes to get ready for the harsh slog in his non-four wheel drive car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- no. I don’t want him out on the road in this. Just… stay with him tonight,” he told her. If the choice was between a sleepover at her boyfriend’s and crashing the car in an unplowed street he’d much prefer her to stay put even if he wasn’t crazy about the idea of his teenage daughter sleeping over at her boyfriend’s non-parental apartment of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said, halting her clothes gathering. JD looked at her curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I talk to him really quick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah. Of course,” she told him, surprised. She handed the phone back to JD who looked equally perplexed. “He wants to talk to you for a minute.” He gulped then took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she okay?” He asked in earnest. “She was not fine on the car ride home.” JD swore. She had been worrying about him all night, he realized even as she was going through her own hurt. It was why she had even made the trek over to his place in a blizzard. “Her mother and I are really worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She could be better,” he answered truthfully, but not wanting to explain it fully to them. “But, um, we’re talking and- you know- I’m listening to her,” he said. Veronica looked at him curiously, knowing the only thing JD and her father could be talking about is her. Her father had no idea that they’d been arguing, that she’d had to talk him out of doing something really stupid. “We’re both just talking and listening,” he said, truthfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Good,” Mr. Sawyer said. “We can all talk tomorrow. School will probably be closed. I already told her, don't drive in this, it's all right if she stays with you. Do you have a radio or TV to make sure you can hear them announce it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. We’ll keep an ear out,” he promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the roads are safe bring her home and we can all talk and have lunch or dinner. Stay here with us,” he told him. JD was shocked, to say the least. “For the night I mean,” he clarified. “You, you do seem to help make her feel better,” he admitted. JD swore internally. Hearing her father say that to him, was deeply powerful. He really never wanted to be a source of worry for her like that again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Um, thank you.” It made both of them uncomfortable to say more so her father just went to more practical matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it warm enough in that basement?” He asked, concerned for both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, it’s all right. I have a little space heater.” He refrained from adding that two was always warmer than one in the bed. Maybe it made him feel better to think they weren’t sleeping together in the bed, but he doubted her father was that naïve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask my wife, we might have some extra blankets you can have for the winter. I’m sorry, we should have offered them earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you do, um, that would be nice. Thank you,” he told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Yeah. Um, have a good night then. Put Veronica back on. I just want to say good night quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course.” He handed the phone back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah dad?” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We love you, okay? Me and Mom. We really love you. We’ll do our best to make sure you’re done right by, okay?” She smiled. She had a lot of people that loved her, no matter what that counted for a lot in this world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I love you both too. Um, tomorrow, can we talk about maybe me going to see someone to talk to? Like, a counselor or something? If that’s okay,” she quickly added. He paused, thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would that help?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, peanut. You’re mother and I will try and figure something out. We can talk all about it tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. A good night’s sleep can do a lot for a mental state.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will. Good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night.” She hung up the phone and handed it back to JD who in turn put it on the charger bed. "He defended you, you know."</span>
</p><p>"What?" He asked.</p><p>"My dad. After you left. He told them you'd never hurt me like that." She smiled. "You see? I keep telling you, he doesn't hate you."</p><p>"Wow," he said, unsure what to say to that. The idea of her father defending him, of any adult defending him was so foreign. He'd need time to process that. </p><p>
  <span>“Snow day will probably be called tomorrow,” she told him. “One more day of a reprieve for me, most likely.” He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call Dr. Beckett tomorrow. I’m sure the weather will cancel the appointment, but he’ll want me to talk to him after what I thought about doing. About.. all of it.” She nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s good talking with you it really seems,” she told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he is. Did I ever thank you for asking me to go to him?” She shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said anyway. “For always being in my corner. For always fighting for me. For the best version of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you too,” she responded.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“For what?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For promising to be in mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We’ll talk more about all of this, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably a lot.” He smiled crookedly at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so. The more we talk, the more we let each other in, the better off we’ll both be I suspect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree.” Carefully she reached under her shirt to take her bra off to get comfortable for sleep, the weight of the night falling hard on her, making her tired. “I’m tired. God, I can’t believe I walked over here in the middle of a blizzard.” She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too. But I’m glad you did.” They got under the blankets and he turned his light off. He closed his eyes as he rested on his back, his head on his pillow. She wrapped her body around his, resting her head below his chin on his chest, her arm around his middle and her fingers on the side of his stomach. <em>I've been on the ledge twice in my life, Veronica. And you talked me off the second one, </em>he wanted to say to her, but didn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JD?” She asked a few minutes later. “Are you still awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm?” He asked, he had been close to it but not yet. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talk a lot about how I’m yours. That I'm yours to protect,” she said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veronica, if that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, I like being yours and I like that you're protective. It’s just- you forgot one other thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine as well. You’re mine to protect too.” He didn’t respond. He snuggled her body closer to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she was on the edge of sleep he whispered, “we belong to each other and we’ll protect each other too. Especially from our worst impulses.” Her fingers curled around his side in silent agreement. Right as he drifted into a dream state he mumbled, “life’s not a fucking war.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“If they have not quite seceded from war’s state, at least they’ve found the beginnings of gentle withdrawal… there’s never been the space or time to talk about it, and perhaps no need-- but both know, clearly, it’s better together, snuggled in, then back out in the paper, fires, khaki, steel of the Home Front. That, indeed, the Home Front is something of a fiction and lie, designed, not too subtly, to draw them apart, to subvert love in favor of work, abstraction, required pain, bitter death . . .   They are in love. Fuck the war.”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>-</em>Thomas Pynchon (Gravity’s Rainbow) </strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay. I hope that... worked. Really, I do.</p><p>It took so long because I wanted to make the moment work. I hope it did. I think I like how it turned out. I liked the "what if" aspect of it and how so many things came together in chance to prevent JD from snapping. If there hadn't been a blizzard by chance I think it would have ended different. </p><p>The bit about blanks comes from a Christopher Pike novel I read as a kid but I can't remember which one. But yes, you can still kill someone with a blank if your are close enough.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. After a Storm You Have to Dig Yourselves Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which JD and Veronica have a lot of shoveling to do.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! So, firstly... thank you. Thank you all so much. Never in my wildest dreams could I think to get over 300 kudos and as many comments and all that and... really. If people weren't reading, engaging, and enjoying it may never have gotten this close to the end. Which is officially going to be 30 chapters. Well, chapter 30 is a 10kish word epilogue, and 26 and 27 were originally one chapter but then it got long and I had to rearrange and... okay, we're settled on 30 chapters total. I know. There is a method to the madness. I swear. I apologize to those who commented last chapter but I didn't respond. I am going to as soon as this is posted. I just want everyone to know I really appreciate all of it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>JD woke the next morning to an empty bed. Memories of last night came to him slowly, the pit in his stomach rising over what he almost had done and what he had almost sacrificed. He couldn’t believe what he had almost thrown his life away on getting his revenge. He couldn't believe he had held onto that gun, "just in case."</p><p>The bed was cold without Veronica. He sat up and saw her tinkering in the make-shift kitchenette he had with the radio on. Slowly he swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked up to her. Outside of the blankets and space heater the air was chilly but Veronica was warm as his arms encircled her waist. He kissed her shoulder before resting his chin on it still bleary eyed from sleep. He breathed her in and out. She smelled warm and inviting. The idea that he had been one angry impulsive mistake away from her disappearing from his life still weighed heavy on his mind.</p><p>“Good morning,” she told him as she pressed start on the ancient Mr. Coffee that he had inherited-- like almost everything in the basement-- from Kyle’s brother. Sleepily he nuzzled her neck and tightened his hold around her. She flicked the talk radio over to music. “Right before you woke up, they called a snow day.”</p><p>“Good,” he whispered, rocking her body close to his. After the fight last night she could finally take comfort in his arms again and she breathed it in deep. He was warm and once again he made her feel safe. She always wanted to feel safe in his arms. “I’ll have the whole morning with you to tell you how sorry I am,” he whispered into her ear as he delicately kissed it. “To tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life.” She let a small sigh escape her lips. “I hate that my anger almost hurt you,” he said, guilty. </p><p>She watched as the coffee percolated into the kettle. “You’re not a monster JD,” she told him, grateful. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He was the boy he always was meant to be. The one she deserved. Not perfect, but working on himself. It was the most she could ask from anyone. “You have anger inside of you, it’s true, but you acknowledge it now. Like we said last night, we just have to talk these things out. You can’t let it overtake you.”</p><p>“I won’t,” he said, determined. “I promise you.” She rubbed her hand over his arm around her affectionately. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m better. Dad was right, a good night sleep helped. And sleeping in your arms helped a lot. I hope we get to do that more often.” He nodded, agreeing. Last night had been one of the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time too. “I know this stay of execution won’t last forever though.” The snow that had fallen last night had set up a sort of cocoon around the two of them, shielding them from the outside problems in their life for a whole extra day.</p><p>“It won’t. And I know I can’t fight every single one of those jerks at school that say something mean to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. And I’ll have to do my best to try not to focus on them.” <em> Easier said than done </em>, she knew. She had to try anyway. “There are a lot worse things in life than being humiliated.” </p><p>
  <em> Like my boyfriend losing himself to his worst impulses. </em>
</p><p>“Last night you said you wanted to find someone to talk to, do you still want to?” He removed his arms from her-- much to her regret-- to get down the coffee cups and grab the milk from his mini-fridge. He fixed them the coffee that had finally finished brewing.</p><p>“Yeah, I do.” Veronica realized that not only what had happened to her with Kurt and Ram had left an imprint but there were still some lingering issues rattling in her brain from the first timeline of events. She had no idea how she’d explain that to anyone, but maybe she could dance around the magical time travel aspect of it. She’d figure it out. </p><p>Now that she knew they were in a truly different world than the one she left she wondered if the previous memories would leave her. Whilst they still weren’t prominent they hadn’t left her completely. She was actually glad of it-- despite the bad memories-- because it would allow her never to forget how close either of them came to being the versions of themselves that had done bad things. Knowing what he-- and she-- was capable of would be a constant reminder of how much they both had to work to stay reasonably sane and moral. She was confident that together they could do anything though.</p><p>“Later this afternoon, when I call Dr. Beckett, I’ll ask him if he could recommend someone if you want.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” They sipped their coffee amiably and they went to the window to marvel at the white world around them. The windows of the basement were completely covered by the snow. They could almost pretend they were buried underneath it together, unable to get out until the spring thaw. “The radio said two feet fell last night.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thankfully,” he told her.</p><p>“I don't..?” She said, puzzled.</p><p>“When I left the meeting last night my plan was to come here, call Kurt and Ram and get them to meet me in the graveyard. I was going to get the gun, then threaten them.” Veronica swallowed, the whole thing sat uneasy with her. She knew damn well how quickly that could-- and would-- have escalated to regrettable actions, even if plain murder covered up with suicide hadn’t been his original plan. “When I saw how much snow was falling I knew I’d never get them to agree to meet me anywhere.”<br/>
<br/>
“How were you going to get them to meet you anyway?” She asked, just out of curiosity. </p><p>He shrugged. “Logic wasn’t really the primary driver in my mind last night,” he admitted. “I thought about offering them money. Disguising my voice and telling them I wanted to know who I could buy pills like they used on you from.” Veronica shivered. “Maybe try to scare them ominously into telling them I know the truth.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure if I could get them, but I was going to try.” She hated the idea that JD could be that guy. </p><p>“So when you started seeing how bad it was coming down…?” She trailed off, suddenly realizing.</p><p>“In a blizzard like that? Too dangerous for me to be out in, let alone getting them somewhere. Guess you could say it stopped me in the moment. Had to wait a day or so. And then you showed up and talked me down. Only you could be so crazy to walk over in a blizzard.” She didn’t take it as an insult, it had been a reckless thing to do absolutely. She was lucky she hadn’t hurt herself. Even luckier though that she had gotten through to him.</p><p>Veronica pondered this all silently. The blizzard held off JD’s plans so that she had time to trek over-- against a sane brain-- and talk him off the ledge so to speak. She breathed out gustily and thanked any power out there for doing such a thing. </p><p>It all could-- and probably was-- a really big coincidence. One could almost call the storm a deus ex machina. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it was an otherworldly intervention. Veronica's heart thumped at the thought of all the miraculous things that had occurred to her since she found herself redoing senior year. Or maybe not. She had no idea if fate or the higher powers had any influence in this but if by any small chance they did she wanted to make sure they were properly thanked.</p><p>She put her finished mug down and took his as well. They stared at each other for a moment. With a small smile she reached up and gently took him by the ears and brought him down to kiss her. It was slow and sweet, his hands warmly slid down her neck to her shoulders and down her sides until they lightly fell to her ass over her underwear. He was on the verge of lifting her up to carry her back to bed when they heard a banging at the window before the door swung open. </p><p>A gust of cold belted them as a loud voice called, “JD! Snow day! Get up! Mom said she’d knock twenty-five bucks off your rent if you help me with the shoveling. Besides you got your car to dig-” He stopped, noticing the two of them in an intimate embrace and the lack of clothes like deer in the headlights. “Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were here Veronica,” he added quickly, turning around. Kyle was standing at the outside door to the basement cheeks burning-- in embarrassment as well as cold-- as Veronica quickly parted from JD. It was at that moment she realized she was just wearing JD’s shirt and her underwear and not much else. Quickly, she maneuvered behind him, wrapping her arms around herself as much in embarrassment as in cold from the incoming chill.</p><p>“Seriously! Knock!” JD told him. </p><p>“I did!”</p><p>“Wait for me to say, ‘come in!’ Jesus!” He hurried and opened up the dryer to find Veronica’s clothes that had been wet from the snow last night all dry. He handed her her sweatpants and she put them on.</p><p>“Sorry! Sorry! I was just surprised, I didn’t think on a school night- do your folks know where you are?” He asked, unsure if he needed to cover for them sneaking around.</p><p>“Yes, it’s a long story. I was upset last night and walked over and-”</p><p>“Damn! Seriously? Last night was awful,” he said. He turned around now that she was dressed. JD was in the process of putting all his winter clothes on as well, knowing he needed to go outside and help shovel-- twenty-five bucks was twenty-five bucks after all-- as well as dig his own car out in order to drive her home later. As great as the news of a snow day was in real life one also had to take care of the chores that accompanied it. “You okay?” Kyle asked, concerned. He knew from Heather that the fallout from those dick’s pictures was bad and some of the things other kids were saying and sniggering about her were pretty awful. Not to mention the fact that knowing this school they’d never believe her or care that she was drugged.</p><p>“A little better, thanks,” she told him. JD grabbed his coat, black scarf, and black fingerless gloves, tossing his McMurphy hat over his messy hair. Veronica smiled to herself, his winter clothes just went with his whole normal look so perfectly. She had wondered how those kinds of gloves kept one’s hands totally warm but he always shrugged it off as being fine.</p><p>“Hopefully it won’t take too long to dig out. As soon as we’re done I’ll take you home, okay?” JD said. She nodded.</p><p>“Give me a minute? I’ll come out and help too,” she told him hunting around for her bra. She found it tangled up in his blankets which only caused Kyle to go beet red. JD quickly hustled him out his door with a shovel in his hands to begin the task at hand.</p><p>After all was said and done and the driveway and sidewalk were taken care of at his place JD pulled up in front of Veronica’s house with her. Her father was in the driveway in snow pants and a shovel trying to take on the task by himself. They had an awful driveway that was single car up front, but dual in the end so the entire thing had to be shoveled. </p><p>JD parked off the side of the house. They got out of the car and he watched Veronica run up to her father’s arms. He practically threw the shovel down and they hugged fiercely as he kissed her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Don’t scare us like that again,” he told her, touching her face with his gloved hand.</p><p>“I won’t. I’m sorry.” She left his arms and he sighed. “Go inside and let your mother know you’re okay. Her back was acting up this morning so I told her not to hurt herself shoveling, hence why this is taking longer than usual.” Veronica nodded as she headed inside. She knew that was her fault too, usually she’d be out there with him helping first thing in the morning. JD didn’t follow. Instead he turned to her father.</p><p>“Can I, um, give you a hand with the shoveling?” He asked her dad, tentatively, thinking he needed the help with Veronica talking to her mother. Mr. Sawyer stared back at him, before pointing.</p><p>“The other shovel is by the garage,” he told him. JD walked over and got it before starting in on the other end of the driveway. He didn’t thank him, but JD knew he appreciated the gesture. He wasn’t quite sure what their relationship was now, but he knew it wasn’t heated anymore. JD finally believed Veronica when she told him that the man didn’t hate him anymore. He wasn’t sure if he should thank the man for sticking up for him to the principal but he figured if they couldn’t say the words to each other right then and there then for right now he could help the man shovel. After all, an actively good and attentive father that cared about his daughter and possibly her boyfriend by extension wasn’t something JD was used to or had much experience with.</p><p>Veronica went inside to find her mother in the kitchen with a cup of warm tea in her hand and the heating  pressed to her lower back. “Mom?” Veronica called. She immediately put both down and let go a breath in relief. Mrs. Sawyer opened her arms and Veronica fell into them gladly. “I’m so sorry. It was so stupid and reckless of me to go out in the storm like that and not tell you where I was.” She wrapped her arms around her daughter protectively.</p><p>“Oh honey, please don’t scare me like that ever again. I had visions of you in ditches. Before your father called JD I wanted to call the police to look for you I was so worried. Were you dressed warmly? No frostbite?” She asked, nearly on the verge of tears. Seeing her mom upset in turn made herself upset, knowing how worried she must have been.</p><p>“I’m fine. Oh god, I promise I’ll never do anything like that to you again,” she whispered against her mom.</p><p>“I know you’re not okay about all of this, but please-”</p><p>“I know. I know.” Her mom kissed her head and they both turned and looked out the kitchen window. “It was irresponsible and reckless. I wasn’t thinking. I just had to go see him.” She couldn’t tell her why exactly, but her mother didn’t press her. She let Veronica go, but kept her arm around her in love anyway.</p><p>They stared out the window taking in the sight of JD and her father. Shoveling. Together.</p><p>“Is that Jason helping your father shovel?” Her mother asked, both surprised and impressed at his thoughtfulness. Veronica stared at them, equally surprised but in a good way.</p><p>“He is. Oh gosh. Maybe I should go out there and give them a hand,” Veronica said, both concerned over helping with the shoveling task as well as being an intermediary between JD and her father. “Just in case they, you know, do something crazy like talk to each other.”</p><p>Her mom laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “Give them a few more minutes. It might be good for both of them. It’s not easy for your dad. He’s been the only male you’ve loved most of your life. He has begun to accept that he’s going to have to share you.” She went to the coffee maker and fixed Veronica her own cup. “Did you eat?” In response Veronica’s stomach grumbled. Her mom laughed and pulled down the cereal and a bowl. “When they’re finished up with the shoveling we can all sit down for a proper dinner but have a little something for now. I’m making a casserole.” </p><p>Veronica finished up her cereal and her mom stared at her with her head in her hand, resting her elbow on the table. “Veronica, honey, I keep wanting to ask,” she began tentatively. “But I don’t want to meddle in your relationship.” Veronica looked at her, surprised at what this was about. “Have you and JD talked about what you want to do after you graduate?” A ball Veronica hadn’t even realized resided in her stomach made itself known to her. “I mean I assume neither of you wants to break up,” she continued delicately. </p><p>“We hadn’t really discussed it yet,” she said honestly. They really hadn’t. She and him were taking these crises one step at a time. First it was dealing with the stuff with his father than she was accosted...</p><p>They hadn’t talked about the future though. The ‘what would happen after graduation’ talk. She had just been so grateful that the two of them had come out of their major crises alive and still together. “He wants to go to school eventually, but he might wait till winter or the next year so he can get his transcripts in order, maybe start at community college or just work for a year first to get settled with money. He has a little bit of money from his mom, but it won’t last forever.” She turned the subject back to herself. “I know you want me to go to school this fall.”</p><p>“Yes, we would. But it’s about what you want Veronica, most importantly. It’s your life,” her mother told her plainly. </p><p>“<em> I </em> want to go to school in the fall,” she resolutely agreed.</p><p>“You have worked very hard the last few years for this. I just- I want to make sure- How do I put this? Even if you love him, you can’t decide these things because of a boyfriend,” she told her daughter practically. Veronica’s brain hurt with worry. Her mother reached her hand out and touched hers gently, assuring her. “It doesn’t have to be an ultimatum. It’s not the 60s. What was the odd saying? Boys before books?" Veronica groaned, remembering Ms. Fleming telling her that. "I mean, you’re on reliable birth control. You can have both. It’s not impossible to make it work if it’s what you both want.” Veronica nodded. “Even if you're far apart.”</p><p>“Like I said, I want to go to college in the fall too,” she agreed firmly. She knew herself and no matter what she wasn’t going to compromise it. She thought back to the months earlier when she sent off her applications and how excited she’d been about a new horizon ahead of her she could also rewrite without the pain and regret of high school weighing her down. She realized now that she and JD would have to discuss this soon. She stared at her empty cereal bowl, then her mom. “I also don’t want to break up with him. And I don’t think he wants to either.” Would long distance make or break them? She wasn’t sure. But she also knew his plans weren’t certain. He wasn’t connected to Sherwood other than by default. It just happened to be where his dad had wound up the last time he had moved with him. He stayed not just because it was where he had already been enrolled in school but because of her and his friends, but she didn’t think he wanted to hang around after graduation long either. “We’re in love,” she told her. Her mom nodded.</p><p>She walked over to the mail caddy and picked up some envelopes. She held them as if they weighed a ton, which Veronica soon realized they did, metaphorically speaking. “Your dad and I have been dying to open them but we wanted to wait for you and then- well, this happened,” she added, bitterly. She shook her head. “Well, this is a welcome distraction at least. These all came on Monday and Tuesday.” Veronica stared at the pile of letters with her name on them with college logos in the return address labels. Some of them were rather large envelopes in fact, which was usually a good sign. “I think this was all five of the schools you applied to.”</p><p>Veronica nodded. It was. Harvard, Duke, Stanford, Ohio State-- her backup-- and finally NYU her whim. She stared at all five. This was actually an exciting moment for her. Her mother was right, as she usually was. As much as she loved JD and wanted him in her life this was a decision she had to make on her own. She was both excited and scared to open those envelopes.</p><p>They both got up and looked out at the window at JD and her father shoveling. “You, me, and dad will open these envelopes after JD goes home and find out which lucky school will get you as a student, okay?” Her mom smiled and kissed her head. “Think it over. You can decide what you want and make a decision then.” Veronica nodded in agreement. With her arm around her mom they watched as JD and her father had stopped for a moment. They looked like they were discussing the best tactic to finish the job up. Veronica quickly realized that the discussion may be on the verge of a heated discussion. “Oh boy, I better go help them,” Veronica said as they both began to laugh.</p><p>That afternoon at the Sawyer’s JD went upstairs to their spare room with the phone and punched in the numbers of Dr. Beckett.</p><p>“Ah, good to know you called JD,” he said to him. “I tried calling you at your home to tell you I didn’t go into my office but I just got the machine. Quite the storm, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was. I’m at Veronica’s. I was helping with the shoveling. School got cancelled today.”</p><p>“Ah, good old fashioned snow day then. Good. My kids had one too. Is there anything you want to talk to me about over the phone? Or do you want to wait until next week’s in person?” He asked casually.</p><p>JD sighed. “There’s been a lot to happen this week that I need to talk to you about.” </p><p>“Okay. Start at the beginning.” JD told him everything. He told him about the party, what happened to Veronica, and what they did to her on Monday at school.</p><p>“Thank god she’s okay,” Dr. Beckett said. “She’s lucky to have you to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured.” JD agreed. “Please tell her that I am sorry that happened to her. That isn’t right at all. I hope those boys are punished.”</p><p>“I will. That’s not all of it though. I, um, I lost my temper,” he told him carefully. “I hit them both. Both the night of and Monday when I saw the pictures.” Dr. Beckett paused.</p><p>“I understand,” he told JD quietly. “I understand why you were angry at them for what they did to her. That anger was justified. The school’s response was also deplorable, which is an understatement. That you slipped, that you allowed your anger to get violent with those boys was wrong, but understandable. Did you understand in the moment and afterwards that this anger can not eat you up though?” JD got quiet before he told him. He told him everything. He told him about keeping the gun, about his plan, about Veronica threatening to leave him if he hurt those boys, and finally his mental clarity and break.</p><p>There was audible silence on the phone after that admission.</p><p>“I can not believe you kept a gun in your house,” the doctor told him seriously. “Do you even understand how much trouble you could be in with an unregistered gun you took from your father’s house underage?”</p><p>“Actually in Ohio you don’t need a license or a registration for a gun,” JD told him automatically. “And while the law says I can’t purchase a handgun until I'm twenty-one it isn’t illegal to possess one underage so long as it isn’t reported stolen, which I doubt he did. Technically, my grandfather left one to me, so legally it is my gun.” There was silence on the phone. “Um, he may not have been good at teaching much, but my dad was pretty good at drilling gun laws for each state into my head with each move. He doesn’t believe in much, but he does believe in the second amendment and has an NRA card.”</p><p>“Okay… I was not aware of that.” Dr. Beckett had only been in possession of a firearm when he was in the army and had never had any desire to own one in civilian life, having had enough of them in his youth in the army. “Regardless,” he said, his tone betraying emotion even though he tried not to with a patient. “After everything that you have been through with your father you actively kept a gun in your home?”</p><p>“I know,” he told him, his leg starting to twitch. </p><p>“After having told me explicitly that you have had suicidal thoughts in the past,” he told him, frustrated.</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“You still actively kept a gun in your possession. Unbelievable.” There was a pause and Dr. Beckett breathed in and out, trying to regain his professional composure. He wasn’t used to working with people so young and in an uncharacteristic moment he saw a kid not that much older than his own about to throw his life away, not his patient. He chastised himself and remembered this was a patient. One he liked, but a patient. “All right, I’m sorry. Admonishing you won’t accomplish anything. You do know that it was wrong to keep that in your house? Please tell me you now realize it was wrong.”</p><p>“Yes,” JD told him simply. "And not just because it upset Veronica. It was wrong and stupid all around." The doctor breathed out in relief. It was a start. “I’m getting rid of it.”</p><p>“Good. Okay, let’s discuss this. All of it.” JD swallowed and began. The call was longer than usual. He worried briefly that the Sawyer’s might be mad for tying up the line but Veronica had promised him that her parents were fine. They even agreed that if the man could recommend someone for Veronica to speak with they would be grateful.</p><p>JD hung up the phone an hour later emotionally exhausted. He went downstairs as Mrs. Sawyer was taking a casserole out of the oven and Veronica was setting the places at the table. He walked over to them and slipped her father the Post-It note he had written the name and number for the doctor on. “He said to tell you this woman he knows works with young girls and a variety of stuff like this,” he said, eying Veronica. She smiled gently, glad he remembered. “Um, she does a lot on a sliding scale too so don’t worry about that.” He shrugged and walked over to Veronica to help her with the table. </p><p>“Thank you,” her father said. He and his wife would call the woman tomorrow.</p><p>“Thank you,” she told him quietly as well. She swallowed. She knew it would be good to talk about some of this stuff with someone outside of her parents, friends, or boyfriend. Someone who was better experienced with that kind of stuff and was an outsider to her life. She nudged him gently. “How are you doing?” Veronica asked as he gently brushed his fingers against hers. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms, but it was awkward with her folks in the room. </p><p>“A little drained. Sorry I was on the phone so long.”</p><p>“Never apologize if it was for talking to Dr. Beckett,” she said. Her parents didn’t bring up the length of the call either since Veronica had told him who it was with. They sat down when the food was all ready and talked lightly of things, not wanting to dwell on what was sure to be more hardships as they waited for the blood test results and if they were able to see real justice done for what Kurt and Ram had done to her. </p><p>It took him about halfway through the meal when he realized that every time he’d eaten with Veronica and her parents they sat at the same seats. Not only that but every time he had eaten with him he too had eaten in the same seat. It was almost- almost as if he had a tentative place at their table. He pushed that aside. He hadn’t had a place at a table since he was very young and his mother tried to create a family table. He was very cautious to not think of her family as his. It was presumptuous, he felt. He knew he was gaining their trust and they weren’t unwelcoming to him, but still. They were her family, not his.</p><p>JD went home a little while after dinner. After saying goodbye Veronica sat at the table with her parents and the envelopes in front of them. They stared at her excited, prompting her to rip them open like Christmas gifts. She opened them one by one carefully and discarded the two that hadn’t accepted her-- Harvard and Duke, not a big loss, she decided long ago not to obsess over a “perfect school”-- and laid out the three that had: Ohio, Stanford, and NYU.</p><p>Home. California. New York.</p><p>The middle, to the left, and to the right. Her parents and her discussed each one and their merits. She had thought long and hard about all the options depending on which ones would accept her that afternoon as they dug themselves out of the snow and JD talked to his therapist. </p><p>She smiled at her parents. Veronica, her mother, and her father eventually came to a decision Veronica was pleased with. Her parents' pleasure was twinged only with the sadness that it was a reality: their baby was going to graduate and become an adult. </p><p>The next day after school she firmly decided that she would tell JD what she decided and ask him some very important questions about their future.</p><p>That night her mom sat with her in her room as Veronica got ready for bed. “So, I couldn’t help but notice that the prom tickets go on sale tomorrow.” Her mother was at her desk as Veronica sat up in bed. She held up the flier Veronica had brought home from school with the details for the upcoming Westerberg class of 1990 prom. Veronica had forgotten, in all the drama. She had forgotten the simple joy of normalcy. She decided to embrace it and indulge in the normalcy of it with her mom.</p><p>She hadn’t even gone to the prom the first time around senior year.</p><p>“Oh, I nearly forgot.”</p><p>“I presume he’s taking you, right?” Veronica grinned, remembering how he needed to be practically forced to against his will.</p><p>“He has agreed to take me. He has even agreed to a jacket and tie if you can believe that.” Her mother laughed.</p><p>“Well, I can not wait to see that, that’s for sure.” She sat on the edge of her bed, held up the brush, and nudged Veronica to turn around. Veronica smiled, her mother wanted to braid her hair back for her like she did when she was younger and she indulged her. She ran the brush through a few times before beginning to wrap it carefully around her fingers and braid it.</p><p>“The money for the prom tickets is in an envelope in the kitchen.” Veronica was surprised. JD had wanted to-</p><p>“Oh mom, but-”</p><p>“I know the boy usually buys the girl her ticket, but your father and I agreed that all things considered we should treat you two. Tell him it's his money for helping with the shoveling today. Also, I presume you aren’t going crazy with a limo or a huge after party event or anything.”</p><p>“Oh gosh no. I promised him we’d keep it as simple as possible for his sanity.” Her mother grabbed a hair tie and secured her hair. Even though Veronica was more than capable-- and her mother knew it-- she allowed her to help her slip into her blankets. “It was kind of a miracle to get him to agree to go.” Her mother laughed. She got up and went to her vanity, tidying things up and futzing.</p><p>“So, we’ll go on Saturday to start looking for a dress?” Her mom looked more excited than she did. “You promised me a Veronica and mom day, remember? Who’s to stop us from taking a lap around the Penny’s and Macy’s dress departments to see what’s out before the other girls ransack them?” Veronica smiled.</p><p>“I was thinking sleeveless.” Her mother agreed.</p><p>“A sweetheart neckline always looks good with your figure,” her mother added.</p><p>“Blue,” they both said at the same time. They laughed. Her mother was insanely glad to hear that Veronica was open to talking to a counselor about what happened to her but she also was hoping prom stuff would be a good distraction for her as well. It was something she knew she could provide. The sound of her daughter’s excitement for prom was good to hear after all that had happened.</p><p>As she finished tidying up her things her mom noticed the jewelry box that JD had given her a bit back on her vanity. Sylvia recognized the brand name and was surprised. The only person who would ever get Veronica something like that was her grandmother and possibly for a special occasion like her eighteenth birthday. It was still a small bit away though. “What’s this? I don’t recall your grandmother splurging for something small from-” Carefully, she opened it and gasped. “Veronica, where did you get these?" Her mom asked incredulously, as she inspected the pearls.</p><p>“Oh, the pearl necklace,” Veronica said lightly. “Yeah,” she said, getting nervous. She hadn’t shown them to her mother, worried about this very reaction. She bit her lip and told her since there wasn’t much sense in lying. “JD gave it to me.” Her mother’s eyes went wide in surprise. “As a present.”<br/>
<br/>
“He got you pearls? Real pearls? Honey,” she said nervously. “Um, do you know what it usually means when a paramour gives you a gift like this?” She and her husband were becoming more comfortable with the idea of their daughter in a relationship and the realization it may be a long term one but Veronica wasn’t even eighteen and these were the kind of pearls-</p><p>Well, they were the kind of thing a man might give a woman as a sign of major commitment, like as an anniversary gift or an engage- Her mother’s heart rate accelerated quite quickly.</p><p>Veronica saw the worried look on her face and quickly cut off whatever line of thought she had. “No, no, no, it’s not what you think. He didn’t buy them or anything.” Her mother breathed easy. She shook her head in embarrassment. It was silly to jump to conclusions like that. Her daughter had told her earlier they still hadn’t discussed what would happen after graduation after all.</p><p>“Than where-</p><p>“They were his mom’s,” Veronica said. Sylvia Sawyer’s heart melted a little slowly understanding. She knew he didn’t talk about her much, but she knew what happened from Veronica. “He managed to find them and take them when we got his stuff when he moved out of his dad’s. He doesn’t have a lot of her stuff. His dad threw most of it out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” she said, softly. “That’s still a very big gift--” <em>The extreme always makes an impression.</em><br/>
<br/>
“I know. He wasn’t thinking when he offered them to me. He doesn’t really know the rules about stuff like that. I was raised by you right. I told him I didn’t feel right accepting them. He agreed, but he wanted me to borrow them to wear to prom though. It would mean a lot to him, I think. So I said I would.” Her mom nodded. She was relieved mostly to know the gift had been out of sentiment, not commitment. They were still in high school after all. </p><p>“That was the right thing to do,” she agreed. “I agree, I think that would be a very sweet gesture to her to wear them.” She stared at them, marveling at how lovely they were. “Your grandmother wants you to borrow her sapphire tennis bracelet. You know, the one your grandfather gave her for their 25th anniversary?” Veronica did. <em> Of course Grandma would. </em> Veronica remembered going through her grandmother’s jewelry box often as a little girl and her grandma knew it was her favorite. She had always promised her it would be hers one day. “I also have the blue drop earrings from my mother I wanted to let you borrow. I think they’ll look really nice with the pearls.” Veronica smiled. “You just need to promise me you’ll be very careful with all this, okay? Take them off as soon as the dance is over. You’re not accustomed to wearing special things like this and it’s easy to lose them.” Veronica smiled. <em> Mom will always be mom. </em></p><p>“I’ll be very careful with it all. I promise,” she told her, sincerely. “Thanks mom. Can we do a proper plan session Saturday? We still have loads of time and I’m getting sleepy. And I want to make sure I get enough sleep for dealing with tomorrow.” Her mom kissed her one more time, wishing she never had to send her back to that school.</p><p>“We will. And tomorrow you’ll get through it. Same as the next. Okay?” She settled in and her mom hit the light switch. “Goodnight honey.”</p><p>“‘Night mom.”</p><p>The next day was not one Veronica was looking forward to. Veronica entered Westerberg High with her head held high, her hand in her boyfriend’s, and her two best girlfriends waiting for her at her pristinely clean locker. She had made a decision last night with her parents about where she was going to school as well and was trying to figure out the best way to sit JD down and talk a lot of stuff about that over.</p><p>She was anxious, but she had a proposition for him that she thought would be beneficial for both of them. A way for the both of them to be happy and achieve real futures for themselves as well as each other. She smiled to herself. <em> We both have a future. </em> </p><p>She tried to focus on that instead of the gauntlet of her high school hallway in the wake of her complete and utter humiliation Monday. It was strange. She had expected sniggering, jokes, and whispers but instead she saw… glares. And snubs. She was confused, but unsure what it meant and not terribly curious to ask. Kurt and Ram’s absence was certainly felt in the hallways, but Veronica was glad of that. What she wasn’t looking forward to was the eventuality that they would return to school if the school or the police opted to do nothing.</p><p>It wasn’t long before lunch and JD and Jeff had taken off from the chem lab a bit early. “What’s up with you?” Jeff asked. JD was at the sink washing his hands. “I tried calling to see how you or Veronica were the night of the blizzard. This shit’s just been nasty all around.”</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry. It was a really bad night. Veronica kind of had to talk me down from the ledge,” he said quietly and honestly. </p><p>“What the hell, man?” JD sighed and decided to open up to his friend.</p><p>“Honestly? I was about two seconds away from doing something regrettable to those pieces of shit.” Jeff nodded, knowing who he meant.</p><p>“What was your plan?” He asked, curious. JD told his friend honestly.</p><p>“Fuck. I’m glad you didn’t tell me then and that she got to you first. I probably would have helped you instead of talking you out of it.” JD stared back in surprise. “Those two are monsters. They’ve been calling me names for years, other guys too for no reason other than it makes them feel big. Beating up anyone smaller than them. They also harass the girls here like they have exclusive rights to all of them. What they did to Veronica was just-” He kicked the sink in frustration. “Fuck ‘em, they would have deserved it.” JD stared at Jeff surprised. </p><p>“They probably do deserve it. But it’s not us that needs to do that. Veronica talked me out of it. I would just have thrown my own life away getting back at them.” Jeff nodded.</p><p>“She’s right, of course, but still- You know that I would have helped you if you asked, right? No questions asked.” JD stared at him, surprised. A friend. He was a good friend, he realized. It was still a strange and differing experience. In the countless years of picking up and moving it had never even been an option for him, but now that he had planted himself down for a year and let Veronica into his life he had also opened himself up bit by bit to other people.</p><p>“Thanks. I mean it.” They both paused, realizing things were getting a bit too deep for their taste. “So, did you get that guy’s number from Friday night?” JD asked quietly, changing the subject. Luckily no one else was in the boy’s room. “Seemed, I don’t know, cool.” Jeff smiled wide.</p><p>“We were talking when he dropped me off. We’re going into the city to go to a game shop on Saturday. He said there’s a good one with miniatures and-” He stopped, realizing how much he was nerding out. “I’m gonna play it cool though. I swear.” In a congratulatory manner JD smacked his chest, proud and happy for him. </p><p>“That’s great.” Jeff tried to keep his excitement down. It was tinged by the obvious hurdles.</p><p>“I can’t really talk about this with my folks or anything, but…”</p><p>“Hey, when you're ready to try with them. Just take the happiness wherever you can get it, worry about the bad later,” he told him. JD shrugged. “Sorry, my shrink fills my head with that kind of stuff.” They laughed. “Speaking of, he wants me to start running. For purposes other than being chased.” JD groaned. Jeff laughed, imagining him participating in sport. “It’s not that funny,” he said, slightly bristled. “Not like he suggested basketball or something equally asinine.”  On the phone yesterday as they ended the conversation Dr. Beckett suggested exercise-- running, particularly as it was solitary and seemed to suit him-- as a way to help relax him, keep him from stewing in his anger, and just make him feel better physically over all. Long distance running, he had added when he heard the silence on the other end of the line.</p><p>“Join the track team then,” Jeff suggested.</p><p>“I have never joined a team or activity in my life,” JD said as if that weren’t obvious.</p><p>“It’s track,” Jeff told him with a snort. “For god’s sake it’s not the football team. Hell, I’m on the track team.” JD started, surprised to hear it. “Sign up is next Monday. There’s no tryouts or anything, there're so many events they never have enough people.” Jeff laughed and explained. “My parents forced me to play some kind of sport because they were worried I was alone in my room with miniatures or game stuff. So I just joined the team to make them happy and get them off my back. It’s pretty informal. You just show up to practice, stretch and then run laps. Mr. Keene coaches it.  Sometimes he sees if anyone wants to try running hurdles or pole vault or whatever to see if they can but mostly he just times you to see if you’re improving. Some of the better guys hardcore train, but most of us just run with Walkman’s on to appease our parents that we get exercise. There’s a couple of meets we go to, but if you don’t have a good enough time you don’t qualify for a lot of events. I’ve only qualified once or twice, honestly. Some people take it super seriously, but most of us don’t. I don’t think we’ve ever won a track meet, to be honest. Oh! And Mr. Keene lets you count it as your gym credit too, so it gets you out of the locker room in the middle of the day with the real pricks which is the best bonus in my opinion.”</p><p>JD glanced at him suspiciously. He truly never had joined anything school related in his life. He couldn’t believe he was honestly debating signing up for the Westerberg Varsity Track Team. Stranger things have happened though, he supposed. </p><p>“Okay, yeah. Maybe I’ll… do that,” he said, surprising himself. Jeff smirked. “What?”</p><p>“Hey, if you qualify for enough events they even let you buy a letter jacket,” Jeff told him with a smirk trying to imagine him of all people qualifying for his Varsity letters. JD shivered in disgust. “You could ditch that trench coat for one!”</p><p>“Oh god, kill me first if I ever wear one of those," JD bemoaned wondering if this meant he had to buy a pair of sneakers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eventually I'd love a little mini extra chapter in the side story extras about Veronica going to one of his track meets and how fascinated she is by the concept of JD In shorts and sneakers and that he's actually good (he managed to keep up with Kurt when he ran from him in the graveyard without breaking a sweat after all) but we'll see.</p><p>Edit to ad: I was about to mention in a review response but figure it would be good to ad here. The track/long distance running is also a thin reference to an early 60s youth in revolt/british new wave/"kitchen sink" drama called The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, which is about an angry teen in revolt in working class industrial England.</p><p>Next up-- Heather and Heather will rear their lovely little heads!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. I Hope You Know That This Will Go Down On Your Permanent Record</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Heather, Heather, and Veronica settle the score.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! So, fear not, it's still a bit away from the end. I am actually posting a Christmas one (and the much belated Halloween) one shots before the next chapter. I also have several other one shots/mini sequels half started that so long as people want to read them and I want to write them I guess I'll post 'em. The Halloween one will most likely go under a new story for being explicit but we'll see when it's done being written. The line between M and E is always a tricky one for me to suss out in my opinion. I usually air on the side of caution and go for the harder rating.</p><p>Anyway, the title and song all come from Violent Femmes more famous song, "Kiss Off" which felt apropos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>I need someone a person to talk to</em> <em><br/></em> <em>Someone who'd care to love</em> <em><br/></em> <em>Could it be you? Could it be you?</em> <em><br/></em> <em>Situation gets rough then I start to panic</em> <em><br/></em> <em>It's not enough it's just a habit</em> <em><br/></em> <em>Hey kid, you're sick, well, darling this is it…</em> <em><br/></em> <em>...Oh, yeah, well, don't get so distressed</em> <em><br/></em> <em>Did I happen to mention that I'm impressed?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>-Violent Femmes (Kiss Off)</strong>
</p><p>
  <b>One Week Prior to the Party</b>
</p><p>Heather Chandler waltzed through the halls of Westerberg High as if she were a queen and the rest of the students her subjects. There was a rank and order to them as well. There were her underlings, then the higher tier, then the ones that faded to the background, and then there were the losers: the geek squad, the never-been-fucked, the rejects… she understood they all had a place and that she was on top. That was all that mattered. No one rejected her and no one would ever make her feel less. She’d been the top dog around this group of kids ever since that day she nervously walked into the first day of seventh grade having grown a pair of tits. Rather than allowing the rest of her classmates the ability to make fun of her she made sure she welcomed the attention from the boys. She made sure it was clear that that kind of attention was enviable and being around her allowed it to be reflected back to them. The male gaze gave her a currency, she knew. Having been declined the currency of one boy in favor of another girl was not something she was used to or liked very much. It happened so rarely. </p><p>Beyond that Veronica Sawyer was a problem. Her and that loser boyfriend of hers. Heather had told Veronica once that she’d destroy her and instead of cowering to her threats she smiled, stepped aside, and opted out of the game. And she had taken Heather Mac with her. Heather M in and of herself wasn’t the biggest loss. Heather M added a sense of currency to her clique-- much to her disdain this school worshipped football and a cheerleader was an extension of that-- but not much other than that. Veronica had more value to her though. For one she always had the assignments done to copy and the forgeries were always a use. Beyond that though Heather never wanted to openly admit it but Veronica Sawyer had potential. She had potential to really be molded into something that Heather C could be proud of. A true project and protégé she could be proud to walk into a frat party at Remington with once the harsh edges of loserdom were scraped off. Heather Duke had her uses and Heather McNamara was good for social currency but Veronica Sawyer…</p><p>Well, it was a moot point to her. The worst part was Heather C had committed to doing that and then the bitch had the nerve to throw it back in her face and dismiss her.</p><p>Veronica Sawyer and that loser criminal boyfriend of hers had done something worse than Heather McNamara’s silent slinking away in a puff of green smoke. They had defied her, mocked her, and made her feel less. Watching the two of them flit around school refusing to eat in the lunch room was galling to her. She had promised Veronica that she would destroy her socially. She had been so sure all she had to do was present this boyfriend with a better option and it would all be taken care of.</p><p>But the psycho was “in love”-- <em> puke </em>-- with the slut. And vice versa. Or something. It didn’t sit well with her and it was something that niggled on the edge of her mind. Why in the hell would any red-blooded straight man actively choose Veronica Sawyer over Heather Chandler when presented with a choice? Veronica wasn’t a dog, but Heather saw herself as real champagne, Veronica was sparkling wine-- not terrible but not the best. It rattled her. She was the hottest girl at Westerberg, the rest of them were consolation prizes.</p><p>And Veronica Sawyer was only a viable option because she had lifted her up at that. Heather had taken the little loser and given her a new look and social currency she had previously not had. It was only because of Heather that any male at Westerberg even looked her way. He never would have looked at her if he saw the little loser in the mom jeans and bulky sweaters.</p><p>Heather C stuck her hand in her purse and felt around for the pills. They were still there. <em> Perfect. </em>She decided the less amount of people that knew about this prank the better. Heather Duke had secured the pills for her without question as was normally the case, but the wheels in her head had turned to formulate a plan. Kurt and Ram were morons, but easily biddable ones she was confident she could control. They were just high school boys after all. High school boys were easy and she’d been handling them efficiently since junior high.</p><p>In one quick night Heather Chandler would completely destroy Veronica Sawyer, her legacy amongst her classmates, and this true love nonsense she had going on with that psycho boyfriend of hers. And even if all of them didn’t happen? Well, as the great poet once said, <em> two out of three ain’t bad. </em></p><p>That afternoon with Heather Duke posted as a look out, Heather Chandler walked into the boy’s bathroom a few moments after she saw Kurt and Ram walk in.</p><p> “Kurt. Ram. Good to see you both.” They both blinked in shock at Heather Chandler-- clad in her red blazer, black heels, red minnie, and signature red scrunchie-- in the boy’s bathroom at Westerberg high. They were at the urinals taking care of business and the last person they expected to see was Heather Chandler. “Anyone in the stall? No. Good. Don’t worry, I have Heather outside to give us privacy.” Outside Heather Duke awkwardly waited outside of earshot. </p><p> “What the hell Heather-?” Kurt asked as he quickly jiggled the rest of his piss out and tucked himself in. Ram decided to take his time and eventually put himself away.</p><p>“Look, I have a proposition. For both of you.” They both stared at each other clearly not understanding the word. She rolled her eyes. “A plan really. It will be beneficial to all of us I believe. You know that psycho that took you down? The one that stole Veronica out from underneath your nose? You never did get your proper revenge on him, right?” Kurt eyed her carefully.</p><p> “Yeah, jerk put the moves on Veronica and now she’s under some kind of spell to him. Fucker, he’s not even from here, he doesn't get our hot chicks.” </p><p>“Yeah, super dick. Probably some kind of fag anyway, him and that Sir Fags-a-Lot have been all chummy lately. Besides, you called dibs on Veronica on the first day of school,” Ram added. Heather groaned inwardly at the idea that Kurt Kelly thought he had “dibs” on any girl that had once been under her ranks. Outwardly though she was all coy smiles and fluttery eyelashes. Kurt and Ram were easy marks. They were like tornadoes really, destructive, thoughtless, and merciless to anything in their path, but point them in the right direction-</p><p>“I know. It isn’t right. Before that psycho came along she was all set to go to homecoming with you. Told me so herself. She told me she was desperate for you. Totally warm for your form. And you know how easily she puts out,” Heather cooed.</p><p>Kurt groaned, upset. He could have had a nice lay if not for that loser. “God, next time I see that prick we gotta do something about him,” Kurt moaned.</p><p>“Beating him up? Think that will get you a little nookie from sweet Ronnie? Hardly.”</p><p>“What do you have in mind?” Kurt narrowed his eyes at her. Ram looked back and forth, unsure what she was suggesting. Heather held out a small bag with a few pills in it.</p><p>“Ever hear of Rohypnol?” She asked. It was really lucky Heather Duke’s mom got prescribed the drugs for her “tension” problem. She had heard about guys using it in girl’s drinks a few times when she was partying at Remington. She’d been collecting them from Duke for the last few weeks. This would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone. This little plan of hers was also a test run. If this revenge scheme on Veronica worked out well then maybe she could sell it to some of the frat guys and make a little profit of her own. Funny how a good prank could also be a testing ground for a solid bit of commerce. </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“It’s a sleeping pill. Totally legal, odorless, colorless, and harmless, I assure you,” she told them not one hundred percent sure any of that was true. “But… plop it in a girl’s alcoholic drink and well… interesting things happen.”</p><p>“She falls asleep?” Kurt said, confused. Heather looked at him like he was simple. “Well, you said it was a sleeping pill.”</p><p>“Well, she won’t put up much of a fight, that’s for sure. Let’s just say she’ll agree to things... things that might have taken a little convincing otherwise.”</p><p>“So you want me to give her this so I can have sex with her?” He asked nervously. Heather Chandler was startled. She hadn’t really thought they’d go that far with it.</p><p>“No! Look, honestly? I just want pictures that’s all. Get her to some room, take her clothes off and make it look like she’s having the best night of her life with you two. That’s all.”</p><p>Ram looked confused. “So we’re not having sex with her?”</p><p>“No! Just make it look like it, yeah?”</p><p>“Then what do we get out of this?” Ram asked. “This feels like a lot of work for little reward.”</p><p> “Yeah, what do we get? I don’t see how this will make that prick pay and get me Veronica. Also, this seems like we take all the risk.”</p><p> “You’re getting a free preview with her, right? And when he gets up there and sees the two of you and her <em> en dishable </em>… well, they’ll be dunzo, won’t they? A laughing stock. Completely humiliated in front of the whole school knowing his girlfriend would rather have you two than him.” Kurt turned to Ram and shrugged. It was a nice little bit of vengeance. It had never sat right with both of them that that newcomer fucker was allowed exclusive rights to one of their girl’s. And after something like that that should effectively blackball him from any other girl at school.</p><p>“Yeah, but-”</p><p>“Ugh. Besides,” she said coyly. “Your reward for doing all of this…” She eyed them both carefully and slowly opened her blazer and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her top revealing the red lacy bra underneath. Kurt and Ram followed every movement with bated breath. <em> They are so friggin’ simple to manipulate. </em> She laughed then buttoned back up. “I know it’s something you’ve been wanting for a while. You,” she pointed at Kurt. “You,” she pointed at Ram. “And me.” She pointed at herself.</p><p> “For real?” Kurt asked. “Can, uh, Heather join us too?” He asked, hopefully. Heather laughed.</p><p>“You know what? Sure. All four of us. You can just pass us back and forth,” she told them breathily. She walked over and carefully touched her forefinger to Kurt’s bottom lip. “Hey, and once the psycho is out of the picture who’ s to say sweet Veronica won’t be open to your tender advances once more.” Kurt shivered. Ram hit him.</p><p>“What if we get caught? Won’t we get into any trouble for this? This feels… I don’t know, wrong?” Ram pondered, having an uncharacteristic twinge of morality.</p><p>“Yeah. I mean. These pills… they’re not gonna hurt her?” Kurt said, tentatively.</p><p>“I mean, what if she starts blabbing we did this to her?” Ram inquired, a bit more self-servingly.</p><p>“That’s the best part- she won’t remember. She’ll think she got really drunk and in the morning will find out she went upstairs with you. Not out of character for Veronica, is it? If anything they’ll blame him, right? Please. Who would they believe? The stars of the 1989 championship Westerberg football team? Or the guy being voted most likely to do hard time in prison?” They both agreed. “All right. Remember. Friday at Charlie Sandusky’s bumblehick party. They’ll be there.” She handed him the baggie with the supplies. Running into Veronica and her friends at the mall had been a nice way to confirm their whereabouts that weekend. It was also nice that it would be at that kind of party. Everyone knew trouble always went down at parties in that neck of Sherwood. The psycho bringing her there will only lead to more suspicion it was all his fault. </p><p>Kurt and Ram both shrugged, unaware of the severity of the act that Heather was asking them to commit. They gave each other a shrug and look that said, <em> It was just a prank, right? A harmless prank. </em></p><p>Heather, of course, was not looking forward to paying the boon if it came down to it. She was in eighth grade the last time she sullied herself with a high school boy, but she knew she could get Heather Duke to follow through as well. Those two weren’t exactly stamina junkies she recalled from Heather Mac’s babbling on her time with Ram. She’ll get ‘em drunk on saturday night and they’ll flash them and it should be over quick enough.</p><p>But they were easy and even if they did try to blab that she gave them the pills… Well, who would blame her either? After all, her mother didn’t get them prescribed to her, Heather Duke’s did. And Heather Duke was so far under her thumb that she would take the fall. And at the end of the day all this was a prank. None of this was illegal, right?</p><p>Control. Heather Chandler was confident she had complete control of the whole situation. After all Heather Chandler was worshipped at Westerberg High. Even the teachers let her get away with whatever she wanted. She was untouchable in every sense of the word.</p><p>An odd niggle tickled the back of her brain. The only variable that worried her was what that psycho was capable of. He might snap and kill Kurt and Ram. Still not troubling to her. He’d be expelled and in jail and he and Veronica would be dunzo too. Heather Chandler smiled, the thrill exciting her more than any lunchtime note or stuffed pig prank ever could. When she gets those pictures she’ll plaster them all over the school, make sure everyone sees them. Revenge was a dish best served cold. She laughed to herself, unable to keep the commercial jingle out of her head: <em> what would you do for a Klondike Bar? </em></p><p>The following Monday Heather Chandler got up to drive to school early, her arms loaded with the printed images of Veronica Sawyer in compromising positions with the quarterback and linebacker. She did have to flash both Kurt and Ram as a show of good faith in her agreement. She had rolled her eyes in disgust at how just that could finish them. Those boys were far too easy to please. Tentatively she agreed to that Saturday night for the rest of the payment. </p><p>The pictures though were even better than she thought they would turn out. “Veronica Sawyer. Well, well, well. I remember when you were my little virginal goody-goody,” she said out loud looking through them. “Just what kind of kinky stuff is that psycho into?” She could hardly believe it when Kurt and Ram delivered the prints to her and they told her how it went down. The drug worked perfectly, they said. She was out of it not long after having the drink. </p><p>They told her there was a scuffle with the psycho who smashed one camera when he realized what they were doing, but ultimately they managed to get out. She hadn’t realized they were actually smart enough to think of bringing two cameras. This was going to be even better than she hoped. She honked her horn loudly and impatiently when she pulled up in front of Heather Duke’s house to pick her up for school that Monday.</p><p>“Sorry Heather,” she said anxiously. “You’re usually not here for another hour.” She was dressed, but she was still applying her morning makeup. She flipped the visor on the passenger side down and carefully started on her lip gloss. Heather Duke loved sitting in the front seat of Heather Chandler’s car now. Before Heather M and Veronica fled she had always been relegated to the back seat. Their disappearance had upped her currency. She eyed Heather C carefully, unsure what was up her sleeve with heading in so early today. She squinted curiously at the handful of photos in her lap.</p><p>Heather C smiled and handed her the pile of photos. “Check out what the stars of the football team were doing this weekend. And who with.” Heather Duke carefully took the photos from Chandler’s outstretched hand. She flipped through them. It took her a few minutes before-</p><p>“Oh my God, is that Veronica? Veronica Sawyer? For real? Oh my god!” She let loose a sadistically cruel snort as she flipped back and forth between the photos. “I mean, considering how quickly she jumped new guy’s bones I knew she was easy but-” She flipped to one that made it look like- “Woah, I didn’t think Miss Goody Two Shoes even knew that move existed.” Heather Chandler laughed along. Duke, like everyone else at Westerberg, just thought she was drunk in the pictures, which is exactly what she wanted the student body to believe. How would Veronica ever know or prove otherwise? The pills were odorless, tasteless, and colorless in any drink. “God, and she runs around acting like it’s sweet love with that loser boyfriend of hers. Wow, where did you get these?”</p><p>“Kurt and Ram were kind enough to give me these snaps after a rendezvous they had Friday night. Seems like Veronica got drunk again and made some questionable bed mate decisions. Typical Veronica.” She smiled to herself, after today that would be what everyone would think when someone said, “typical Veronica.”</p><p>“Oh my god, you’re gonna crucify her,” Duke said laughing mirthlessly. “What are you going to do with these?” Chandler grabbed the pictures back.</p><p>“What do you think I’m gonna do with them?” She snapped. Duke looked away. How quickly Heather C’s camaraderie could turn to mockery disturbed her but she gladly accepted it for the perks it provided. It would be far worse to be in Veronica’s shoes right now, that was for sure. “We’re gonna wallpaper her locker with these. And I want you to write on her locker just to rub it in.” Duke nodded, unwilling to even question her marching orders. They were pulling into the parking lot now. This early only a few cars were parked in the lot. “Make sure no one sees us. When more people start coming in I want us to act surprised to see them.” Duke nodded. They had performed numerous other pranks of this severity before, she knew the drill. They had never been caught or punished then, she had no real fear the same would happen. </p><p><em> It’s not like Veronica didn’t do this to herself, </em>Duke believed, unaware that her mother’s pills were at all involved in this or that her own sexual favors were one of the boons to Kurt and Ram bartered for this revenge.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>The Day After the Blizzard</b>
</p><p>Heather Chandler and Heather Duke were manning the prom ticket booth this year. <em> Great, </em> Veronica inwardly groaned. <em> Just give them the money and get the tickets, </em>she told herself, wanting to limit the interaction with them as little as possible. Martha and a couple of kids were ahead of her in line and she smiled and said, “hey,” when she saw Martha there.</p><p>“Oh, are you getting the tickets for you and JD?” She asked, surprised. Usually the boy buys the tickets when you have a steady boyfriend.</p><p>“Yeah. My folks want to treat us so they gave me the money for both of them. He's in the bathroom. I'm gonna surprise him with them after I get them so he can't insist on not taking them up on the offer.”</p><p>“That’s nice. I felt weird asking Jeff to buy me the ticket since we’re just going as friends. He said he’d get his today as well.” Veronica actually noticed a lot of the girls in the prom ticket line. Perhaps the old-timey “boy must pay for all” mindset was finally changing. “We should all do something fun that weekend, right? Nothing that costs too much, but maybe we can convince our parents to let us go camping near the lake? Where the camp grounds are?” Martha suggested.</p><p>“That sounds like it could be fun. Maybe, I dunno, bring this new fella of yours with you too?” Martha blushed to Veronica’s delight. “So…” she asked, wanting to talk about something fun and needle her best friend for deets on this boy she had met over the weekend. “With everything that’s going on I didn’t think to ask-”</p><p>“Don’t,” Martha said, sympathetically. “What happened to you was-” They shut their mouths. Some kids were looking at them funny. Veronica was really uncomfortable talking about what happened to her in front of them.</p><p>It didn’t help that she was getting the harshest vibe from all of them since the day started.</p><p>“Anyway,” Veronica persisted, taking her arm in Martha’s. “This guy. This <em> older </em>guy…” She nudged her friend playfully. Martha laughed.</p><p>“By, like, one year. But yeah. Heather managed to find him and get him my number. He’s like Kyle’s friend of a friend’s roommate’s cousin? Or something. Anyway, she tracked him down. She’s really good at that,” she said, amazed. “He called Monday afternoon.” Veronica cackled in delight. </p><p>“Oh my god, who answered the phone?”</p><p>“My brother,” she said bitterly. “Who refused to believe a boy was calling for me. It was a miracle I pried it out of the little twerp’s hand.” Veronica laughed. </p><p>“Oh my god, I can only imagine!”</p><p>“But we’re going out Saturday night to the movies. I can’t wait to see what mom and dad’s reaction will be.” She smiled. She hoped Mrs. Dunnstock would be happy for her daughter and not too worried about him being a smidgen older. “Maybe, I mean if things go well, maybe we could do a double date?” Martha asked, very excited.</p><p>“Of course,” Veronica told her, equally excited. “I always figured that if we both had boyfriends we would.” Martha nodded and smiled. Veronica glanced back and caught a kid whispering to another one pointedly at her. It left an unsettling feeling in Veronica’s stomach. </p><p>“Martha,” she whispered, carefully. “Tell me please. Why are people glaring at me?” Martha shook her head. “Laughter, jabs, sniggering I expected. But pointed stares? Snubs?”</p><p>“I don’t- I mean, I’ve tried not to listen to what they’ve been saying about you and, you know.” Veronica nodded. “They all shut up when they see me like they were raised too polite to gossip about you in front of your friend.” Veronica nodded. Good old fashioned mid-western politeness. “I think they’re all a bit too scared I’ll tell JD on them. They’re definitely all still scared of him after watching him let loose on Kurt and Ram Monday.” </p><p>The whole thing was odd. She wondered where Heather M was, she usually had her ear to the grindstone about these sort of rumors better than Martha but she hadn’t seen her that day yet.</p><p>“Next!” Heather Duke called up. Veronica and Martha sighed as they walked up to the table, hoping their Heather and Heather interaction would be at a minimum. The image of Heather Chandler leading the pitchfork and torches mob on Monday was not gone from her mind.</p><p>“One please,” Martha said as she handed her money over.</p><p>“One? Going solo?” Chandler said, with a chuckle.</p><p>“I have a date,” Martha replied defensively without thinking. Veronica nudged her, warning her not to engage. It was what Heather Chandler and Duke wanted. Martha’s response had already made Heather and Heather giggle mercilessly. </p><p>“With who? Your mom making a cousin take you? God, amazing. You put a little lipstick on a pig and even Martha Dumprtuck thinks she can go to prom.” Chandler quipped. Martha hated that one interaction with the Heathers made her feel self conscious about her new hair and clothes, especially when they made her so confident before. Especially when she had a date with a guy that told her over the phone Monday night he thought she was pretty hot to trot as well as being sweet. Veronica shook her head, trying to allay it. </p><p>Martha had realized in the time since the almost prank at homecoming that all the bullies really wanted out of her when they called her that was to see her react, to see her cry, to see her say something weird or doofy so they could laugh some more. It wasn’t that the heinous nickname didn’t hurt still-- it did, a lot in fact-- but she was determined to end her time at Westerberg High free from the shackles of it. </p><p>Squaring her shoulders, she stared at Heather Chandler, rolled her eyes as if she were bored with the tedious nickname and told her her request plainly. “One ticket… please,” she added, for effect. Heather snorted, handed the money to Duke.</p><p>“Fine. Whatever.” Heather Duke tossed the ticket at her and Martha took it and waited to the side for Veronica to finish up. She walked up and eyed Heather Chandler and Heather Duke carefully. She just wanted to get the tickets and be away from them.</p><p>“Two,” Veronica said, getting the money out. Chandler turned to Duke and a smirk appeared on both of their faces.</p><p>“Sorry, sold out,” Chandler told Veronica with fake sympathy. A kid behind her started laughing.</p><p>“The prom can’t sell out Heather,” Veronica told her, not in the mood. “All seniors are eligible to go and everyone in line is a senior and I have the money so just give me the tickets.”</p><p>“Seriously?” Chandler mocked. “Your cheap quote unquote boyfriend is making you pay for the tickets?” Both her and Duke let loose snorts. “God Veronica, I get that you’re ‘open for business’ now but have some standards. At least save the money for his bail fees.” Veronica refused to play their game.</p><p>“Here’s the money,” she told them, putting it on the table. “Just give me the tickets so you can be out of my face.”</p><p>“Sell her the tickets Heather,” Martha said suddenly, finding her own sense of power. Chandler looked at her like she was an ant standing up to a giant and dismissed her. </p><p>“Sorry, slutty girls who make up lies don’t get to go to prom with their scary psycho boyfriends. That’s just Westerberg policy.” Veronica reached over to just take the slips of cardboard that constituted the tickets but Duke blocked her. “It’d hardly be fair to the rest of the senior class, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Whatever Heather, I’ll go and see Mrs. Tully,” the teacher who usually advises the dance committees, “and get my tickets from her if you refuse me mine.” She went to reach for her money back but Chandler had already put it in their lock box. </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about Veronica,” Heather Chandler said, innocently having officially grown cocky at seeing how much damage she had caused Veronica Sawyer in less than one week without a whiff of the blame on her. She had promised to ruin her, and now she had. And Heather Chandler was positively drunk on it.</p><p>Kurt and Ram were going to get off scot free it appeared-- now victims of the liar Veronica Sawyer-- and she and Heather would take care of their end of the bargain on Saturday probably. She really ought to tell Heather Duke about that. “I took your money and gave you the tickets.” Veronica tapped her foot growing impatient with their games. Prom ticket policy was always stupidly strict at Westerberg. Without the ticket you don’t get admitted. There were all these warnings that even if you lost them they couldn’t be replaced. It was really stupid and nitpicky, but that’s how it was.</p><p>And all she wanted to do was go to her senior prom with her boyfriend and friends.</p><p>A couple of the kids behind them in line started shouting trying to understand what was happening, wanting their own tickets and getting annoyed the line wasn’t moving. </p><p>“Sorry Veronica, but the school already knows what a liar you are. Please, first you lie that Kurt and Ram raped you and now this?” Veronica stepped back, shocked at the accusation.</p><p>“What?” Veronica said, stunned. “I never accused them of raping me!”</p><p>“That’s not what I heard,” Duke quipped. “Heard you put on the waterworks for the principal and started bemoaning how they dragged you to a room against your will.” Veronica glanced back and forth stunned. <em> Was that why everyone was treating her like a pariah? Was that the rumor mill? </em>Panic filled her, she never accused-</p><p>“They did but I never said they-”</p><p>“Everyone knows about that huge meeting Tuesday night. Thankfully they didn’t believe you. You know, lies like that hurt real people’s lives Veronica,” Heather Chandler told her as if she were the paragon of truthfulness and virtue at Westerberg. It suddenly dawned on Veronica who was pushing those rumors. </p><p>Because of course she was. Heather Chandler always twisted the truth of a situation to hurt someone. Back in the fall she had promised to ruin Veronica, now she was rubbing her face in the mud.</p><p>“Yeah, Ram could jeopardize his football scholarship with an accusation like that!” Duke threw at her. Veronica shook her head mad. There was too much about that statement that really angered her. So much about all of this. She never accused those two of- and so what if she had? What if they had gone further? Why was she not to be believed? <em>Oh god, this was all such a mess.</em></p><p>“I guess some girls just like to make up lies to cover up getting drunk and fucking any guy that vaguely shows an interest,” Heather C said to her coldly, standing up and leaning over the table, referring to her first night with JD. “That’s your MO in general, isn’t it?”</p><p>Veronica snapped. All of it. What happened at the party, the aftermath on Monday, the meeting with the useless administration, and especially in light of her having to talk JD down from the edge the other night.</p><p>She was not about to add Heather Chandler and her petty gossip mongering to her list of problems. She had had it.</p><p>Without even being aware of it herself she slapped Heather Chandler right smack in the face. Heather stumbled back, stunned. The crowd behind them backed off and buzzed, preparing themselves for front row seats at a very different kind of fight than the ones they usually got to witness between the guys.</p><p>“Fuck you Heather,” Veronica spat at her. "You really are the biggest bitch in the school, you know that?" Duke blinked at the two of them in shock, suddenly afraid her own face might be the second target. Chandler’s head was still bent down and what almost looked like a smile danced on her lips recovering from the shock.</p><p>A teacher came out hearing the commotion. “What is going on here?” Mrs. Tully said, tired and not really in the mood to have to discipline two girls in a spat. “It’s just selling prom tickets, girls. I can’t imagine there’s much to cause this kind of stress.” Heather glanced up at Veronica before switching on a dime.</p><p>“Did you see what the liar just did to me Mrs. Tully?” Heather Chandler’s voice quivered as she put on her best victim act. The teacher looked back and forth from both girls. “She hit me! All I did was give her her prom tickets and she hit me!” The teacher glanced back and forth from all the girls at the table and sighed, <em> it can never just be a smooth lunch break, can it? </em></p><p>“Heather and Heather refused to give me my tickets after she took my money,” Veronica told her. She didn’t want to address the fact that she had just hit the girl and the reason unless she had to. Mrs. Tully sighed.</p><p>“So you hit her?” Mrs. Tully asked, trying to figure out what was happening. She was used to the girls getting in verbal spats, not physical ones.</p><p>Veronica seethed. “She’s spreading nasty false rumors about me.” The teacher threw her arms up, annoyed.</p><p>“Look, I don’t-” She put her fingers to the bridge of her nose trying to mitigate the oncoming migraine she could feel coming as the result of going out for drinks last night to celebrate her little sister’s engagement. “I didn’t see any incident and I just- Girls, give her the tickets and move the line along. Lunch period is only 35 more minutes and the rest of the kids want their tickets too.”</p><p>“We already gave her the tickets,” Heather Chandler said in her “teacher and parent” voice. Veronica had learned all too well that the reason Heather C could be Heather C was that she was extra talented in not just influencing other students, but teachers and parents as well. It was why she got away with all of her behavior. Heather Chandler was a “nice” girl to the eyes of most of the teachers of Westerberg. She never got detention and could do very little wrong in their view. Maybe her grades weren’t the absolute best, but she wasn’t failing and she showed up most days. She wasn’t one of the “bad kids” in their view despite her cruelty, pranks, and rumor mill running. “ I don’t know what her issue with us is but she paid and we gave them to her. You know how strict it is about not scamming extra tickets. Veronica,” Heather C said sweetly and directly to her. “I don’t know what this is about but you got your tickets and now the other kids want theirs too. I believe in doing what’s fair for everyone.”</p><p>Veronica glared. “Mrs. Tully, I just want my prom tickets for me and my boyfriend. That is all. I paid, and now I want them.” The teacher sighed. </p><p>“Girls-”</p><p>“I saw too. Heather won’t give her the tickets for some reason,” Martha piped up, standing next to her best friend.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Heather C said, drunk on the power of being the head queen in the school and responsible for taking Veronica down. Mrs. Tully looked tired. “But do the rest of you all think it’s right?” She called out to the rest of the seniors in line. “That this… this…” Veronica’s eyes narrowed as her heart began to thump. “This little lying attention seeking slut,” she thrilled the word to the crowd, “is going to bring her serial killer boyfriend and ruin our prom? Our night of light hearted fun? When she’s going around making false claims-”</p><p>“Okay, Heather, we get the point,” the teacher said, just wishing she had called out and gotten a sub to come in for her for the day. “Just sell the rest of the kids here their prom tickets and we can all get on with our lives.” Veronica stood there, shaking her head.</p><p>“I just want my tickets,” Veronica said. Mrs. Tully looked like she barely cared herself.</p><p>“Move it along now Veronica. The others are waiting,” Mrs. Tully told her. Veronica had had just about enough of this. She had tried. Really tried. She thought just stepping to the side and ignoring Heather would work. She thought she had given her a second chance and that made the two of them square to live their lives in a separate peace.</p><p>“Mrs. Tully, for real?” Veronica said, having had enough. “Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t see what this sociopath does here? The schemes, the lies, the heartless pranks and nastiness?” She turned to the rest of the kids who looked nervous over this outburst. “On homecoming Heather Chandler made up a fake note, that I regrettably participated in, all in order to get Martha to show up to a party and make fun of her with a pig piñata. Heather Chandler has said something nasty about all of you at one point. Joey Richie?” She said, pointing to him in the crowd. He looked embarrassed at being pointed out. “She makes fun of your stutter! J-J-Joey she laughs every time you speak in class. Kelly Wright? She’s called you ‘Smelly Kelly’ more times than I could count.” Kelly nervously moved to the side. She hated that nickname. She had gotten it in junior high. Her mom had run off when she was little and only had a truck driver dad and three older brothers. She’d never had a good puberty talk. “Heather, for god sake," she turned to Duke. "She makes you so nervous and upset you barely look at food." Duke looked away from Veronica, contemplating the whole spat. Veronica turned back to the other seniors in line. "Trust me. I know. I used to be one of her best friends.” She shook her head at Heather then back to the crowd. “I get it. She’s a scary mean dragon bitch but we’re graduating in a few months. Do you all want to keep letting her do this? I don’t know what she’s claiming I said about Kurt and Ram-”</p><p>“Oh can it Veronica,” Heather Chandler said to her smugly. She knew this little speech wouldn’t change anything. “They all know the truth about your lies. Call me a bitch all you want,” she said, “but at least I don’t blame rohypnol on my slutty behavior,” she said overplaying her hand.</p><p>“Wait-” Heather Duke said, suddenly. “Is that- is that how they got those pictures of you?” Heather D said without thinking, her brow furrowed. Veronica turned to Heather Duke stunned as the pieces fell into place. "Is that why you asked me-"</p><p>"Shut up right now Heather." Veronica's stomach turned.</p><p>“Holy crap," Veronica whispered, accusingly. "It was you, wasn’t it? That’s why they wouldn’t say where they got the drugs from. Because it was from you. You gave Kurt and Ram drugs to do that to me?” Veronica asked, shocked. The dirty feeling of being violated rushed through her whole body all over again. The frightening reality that a girl could do that to another girl. Note pranks, catty gossip, rumors-- that was Heather’s bread and butter. But drugging people? Having jocks drug a girl to get naked pictures of her?</p><p>That really was downright sociopathic.</p><p>Veronica couldn’t tell what was happening in Heather Duke’s devious brain. “What did you offer them in return?” Duke asked. “They only want one thing and they- you'd refuse them. You think your better than- oh my god, it was me, wasn’t it? Was I going to be payment for this? Unbelievable.” Heather Chandler stared Duke down. She wasn’t going to be talked down to by a pathetic wannabe.</p><p>“Please Heather, like you alone is worth anyone’s trouble.” Duke’s eyes widened and she looked from Chandler to Veronica, realizing it could all change with one piece of information passed on to the right set of authority.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Duke whispered. “I could destroy you with what I know.” Heather Chandler blinked back at her, unused to this side of Duke.</p><p>But Veronica knew this side of her. A memory of her in the post-Chandler world suddenly floated to her mind. Heather Duke could be just as devious and ruthless as Chandler if given the opportunity to shine. In fact, without Chandler to keep her down she was a hell of a lot worse.</p><p>“Come on Veronica,” she said, walking up to her and taking her hand. “Let’s get down to Mr. Keene’s office. I think I have some information that would be pertinent to both of you.” Marching past Heather C, Duke-- her head held high-- went down to the Vice Principal’s office and opened the door, with Heather Chandler not far on her high heels clipping behind them leaving behind a stunned senior class crowd unsure what was happening.</p><p>“What the hell do you think you’re doing Heather?” Chandler asked, suddenly not secure in her position of authority over the underling.</p><p>“Mr. Keene,” Heather Duke said. He was sitting at his desk with his suit jacket off and a large hero sandwich was poised at his lips.</p><p>“Girls,” he said sternly, putting the sandwich down. “It is lunchtime, this better be important.”</p><p>“Mr. Keene please. I have to talk to you about what happened to Veronica. Please-” Heather Chandler pushed in front of them all.</p><p>“Shut up Heather, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Look, Mr. Keene, I’m so sorry about this. And while you're eating your lunch too!” She clucked, trying to regain her ability to get authority figures to trust her empirically. “Look, Heather has been moody ever since she started her period this--” Heather Duke turned to Heather Chandler with years of pent up rage spewing out of her that usually manifested in her vomiting in the bathroom after lunch.</p><p>She also knew a good opportunity to stage a proper coup when she saw it. </p><p>“SHUT UP HEATHER!” Heather Duke screamed at Heather Chandler so harshly Chandler jumped in a glimmer of fear. “Mr. Keene I know where Kurt and Ram got the drugs.” She swallowed and looked straight at the adult and away from Heather for the first time in her adolescent life. “They were my mother’s. She gets prescribed them and sometimes Heather Chandler asks me for them. But I swear I had no idea what she was going to do with it! That she was going to give it to Kurt and Ram to give to Veronica. No idea. That’s really fucked up. I know it was my fault I gave her the drugs but I didn’t know it was for this!”</p><p>“Wait, let me get this straight. You took prescription pills from your mother but you never thought to ask why?” Heather Duke wavered, suddenly worried she might get a little backlash from this. “But why--”<br/><br/>“Look, I know. It’s just really hard to stand up to her,” Duke said. Veronica had no idea what was happening. All she knew was it was something important, really important. “She wanted revenge. Revenge for these small slights Veronica had when she left the clique. Revenge against her boyfriend for having the audacity to not want her and taking Veronica out from under her thumb.” As Heather Duke spilled the high school power bullshit Veronica could feel it was just that-- that it was so utterly stupid. Revenge? Because a girl wanted to not hang out with you anymore? A small bruised ego and an elaborate revenge?</p><p>She went through one of the worst and most frightening nights of her life because of silly clique dynamics?</p><p>“Mr. Keene really this is ridiculous. Clearly Heather is lying. I am one of the leaders in this school after all. I’m on most of the committees, I’m even a peer counselor to the freshmen-”</p><p>Veronica snorted. “You mean you show up to the meetings to get the credit but then ditch afterwards to go shopping. I should know, I wrote you the letter of recommendation to get you in.” Chandler glared at Veronica. </p><p>“How dare you both, you jealous little bitches,” Heather Chandler snapped, dropping her teacher's voice and not realizing what she had said in front of an administrator. One that had the power to set up a hearing to determine if she could graduate high school or not if this ended up having merit. <br/><br/>“Miss Chandler,” Mr. Keene said, not wanting this to go any further. He was glad he’d be able to punish the students responsible for this to some extent, even if he wasn’t sure that law enforcement would. “I'm afraid Miss Duke's story makes a lot of sense. You are suspended until further notice. Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney will be notified of this as well. Miss Sawyer, we will inform the police of this extra wrinkle and take this all into consideration when we decide the ultimate punishment for all three of them.”</p><p>“But Mr. Keene-” Heather Chandler desperately said, realizing that for the first time in her life she wasn’t getting a pass to do whatever it is she wanted to do.<br/><br/>“Upon a hearing to determine if the three of you are even eligible for your diplomas you are also completely banned from all senior privileges and activities.” <br/><br/>“But what does that-?” <br/><br/>“That means, Heather," he said carefully. "No senior trip, no awards dinner, and most certainly no prom and graduation ceremony.” <br/><br/>“No prom?!” Heather exclaimed, more shocked by that than anything else. “But- but I already bought the dress, have a date and after planned, made reservations at--” <br/><br/>“Well, I guess you’re out of your deposit aren’t you?” <br/><br/>“This is totally not fair-” <br/><br/>“You’re right. It’s not. If life were fair we’d be calling the police and filing charges for assault right this instant!”</p><p>“What?! It was a prank! She didn’t get hurt! It’s not my fault she flipped out and cried about the whole thing.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me right now? You gave two idiots prescription drugs so that they could put it in another girl’s drink to take pictures of her naked. All of this was just to facilitate some personal revenge? What if they had put too much in? She could have died! My god, I can’t even begin to unpack the level of cruelty that you displayed to Miss Sawyer. The absolute lack of moral fiber and character-” he stopped, realizing that lecturing the girl wasn’t in his best interest right that moment. “Get out of my office and this campus. Now!”</p><p>The downfall of Heather Chandler and the realization of how it all went down went around the school like wildfire. Veronica’s humiliation and the aforementioned picture scandal had been replaced with the imminent expulsion hearings and the scary realization that Heather had given Kurt and Ram drugs to mess with a girl.</p><p>When Heather Mac heard the whole thing had gone down she pushed through to see her in after lunch study hall and stared at her with a goofy grin.</p><p>“So, what can we say? Ding dong the wicked witch is dead,” she told her excitedly. Veronica shrugged.</p><p>“The one from the west maybe, but the east?” They peered over to a group with Heather Duke in the center. She had been offering up her sad version of events-- deflecting her own blame-- of how Heather Chandler had taken advantage of her friendship and “innocence” to get back at Veronica. Veronica had to hand it to her, only a truly special talent could manage to make this whole incident all about her and help allow her to rise for the last few months of their senior year. Veronica let it go so long as Duke didn’t bother her. She was just glad the stares and mockery were out of her life. Hopefully for the rest of the school year.</p><p>In the end they didn’t expel Heather, Kurt, or Ram properly. They weren’t denying them high school diplomas with only a few months left in the school year either. Even with Heather Duke’s confession and her test results showing positive for the drug-- thanks to Kurt and Ram giving her more than what Heather had told them to-- the adults-- particularly Heather Chandler’s father the lawyer-- argued that it may have been humiliating to Veronica but there had been no sexual assault or severe battery done to her and that she was okay. Even after much arguing with her mother and father the DA stood by his inability to see how any charges would stick without a sexual assault, robbery, or kidnapping charge to attach it to.</p><p>Both her mother and father knew who they weren’t voting for in the fall.</p><p>Still. Refusal of prom tickets and any other senior perk remained. That meant the three of them couldn’t even attend graduation. They also had an effective “in school suspension” for the rest of the year. They were to report to school on alternative days and Saturdays but had to go to a specific isolated classroom all day, separately. No cafeteria, no free periods. They could finish senior year, but they couldn’t really interact with their peers.</p><p>She heard through the grapevine that Ram was pretty much under house arrest from his dad in light of his almost losing the desired scholarship. All he was allowed to do was go to school and keep in shape with his dad after school-- just grateful he didn’t lose his football scholarship to play division one. In the summer he was being shipped off to some football boot camp away from his best friend so he didn’t risk it again on another “prank."</p><p>Prank. Their dads still saw it as a prank. There, of course, had been no apology from either the parents to her or her own. Whether it was from some loyalty to their own kids or downright shame at what they had said about a seventeen year old girl she wasn’t sure. She didn’t care. Kurt had a similar fate to Ram. Only instead of football camp he was being shipped to his Florida relations to work on a fishing boat until college started after the days needed to complete his diploma were earned. She wondered if they were still able to see each other. She reminded herself she didn’t care as long as they stayed away from her.</p><p>Heather Mac and Heather Chandler’s mother still talked. She heard through that avenue that Heather was being sentenced to the ultimate punishment for her-- Sundays with grandma for the rest of the school year. Nine AM to eight PM she was to spend the day with her at her club with the other old ladies. The idea being she’d learn etiquette. And that summer? Well, she was still getting the trip to Europe her parents had promised her but instead of the fun filled drinking, partying with boys, and sophisticated freedom she had expected she was now her grandmother’s companion of sorts, like something out of <em> A Room With a View </em>and she wasn’t allowed out of her sight the whole time.</p><p>It left a bitter taste in JD’s mouth, Veronica knew. He had wanted them all arrested for what they’d done. A part of Veronica did too. They had gotten punished of sorts, but the bittersweet kind.</p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me? Because they didn’t take it further it’s not that serious? God, they only drugged you, undressed you and took pictures without your consent, and posted them on your locker for revenge,” JD replied to her angrily, when she informed him of their punishment. “I can’t believe none of that is technically illegal.”</p><p>Veronica stared at him defeated. “I don’t think the Sherwood DA has the chutzpah to try to see if he could get an assault charge to stick on the stars of the football team and the queen of Westerberg. Especially with Heather Chandler’s lawyer dad as her defense attorney.” He turned his head from her, upset. Quietly she took her fingers and turned his face gently back to her. “I know, but I think it’s the best we could have hoped for.”</p><p>They were sitting in his car in the chilly March air of the 7/11 parking lot with slushies in their hands slurping up the sugar. Spring will be coming soon. She just wanted to think of the good things that would lead to: like the prom tickets Martha had managed to get for her after Heather Chandler left campus. “I’m just glad you and I didn’t take matters into our own hands.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers and he closed his eyes and opened them nodding.</p><p>“You’re right. I’m glad I didn’t go off the deep end.”</p><p>“Life’s not fair,” Veronica told JD like that old chestnut made things easier to handle. “Yeah, so Heather Chandler may not get to go to prom or graduation and her summer will suck but she’ll be at college next year. A nice, expensive, private one somewhere in the northeast. Probably the same one her grandma went to. A proper legacy. God, she’ll probably pledge for a sorority. You know what? I’m definitely sure she’s already planning her rise to being the president of it by her third year. Kurt and Ram still have their acceptance letters, and Ram his scholarship. They’ll be safe and tucked away in their frat houses too. Ram's gonna play division one. He’ll be a god on that campus. The world will move forward I guess.” She looked out the window. Noticing her despondent look he put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the side of her head. She rested her body against his warm one, placing her cold drink on the dashboard. “I think I realized the secret the grownups don’t want us to know.”</p><p>“What’s that?” He asked. “They just don’t understand?” He laughed, knowing how stupid that really sounded upon close inspection.</p><p>She snorted. “No, the opposite. They understand too well. They understand that this shit doesn’t go away when we get to college. It doesn’t go away when we get to the workplace or anywhere else in our lives. There are always bullies, and they often win. The quarterback doesn’t end up pumping gas, he gets a federal judge seat.” They both considered the unfortunate truth.</p><p>“Then what about us? What happens to us?” He asked, quietly. It had begun to dawn on him lately that their own future was up in the air. The dreaded, “what’s going to happen to us after graduation” conversation they’d both been able to broach.</p><p>Until now. They were silent for a few moments. Veronica took a deep breath and decided now was the time to broach the subject. She sat up and turned to him having prepared her question for him several times in front of the mirror since she decided to talk to him about this.<br/><br/>“I wanted to tell you. I got my college acceptance letters back.” He smiled at her, despite the growing pit in his stomach. She was college bound, he’d always known that. </p><p>He didn’t think she’d break up with him and he didn’t like the idea of a long distance relationship terribly, but if that was the way of it. “So I take it Harvard’s the lucky school that gobbled you up?” He asked lightly, even if it was tinged with a little fear. Massachusetts was far. </p><p>“No. I got rejected from Harvard.”</p><p>“Fuck ‘em. Harvard’s for losers anyway.” She laughed at his defense of her. She shrugged.</p><p>“I didn’t really expect to. I <em> did </em> however get into NYU.” Her folks and her had already begun the acceptance process and signing of the paperwork after she assured them it was what she really wanted. She had decided pretty definitively that moving to New York was a great decision for her. It would be far enough away from Sherwood that she’d be away from the bad people, but close enough to visit them. And she had always wanted to move to New York. The idea of a city campus appealed greatly to her. She’d be able to check in and out of campus life on her own terms and wasn’t bound by their social realms if she didn’t like it. <br/><br/>“Oh yeah?” He said. “That’s great.” He certainly didn’t want her decisions affected by him, but at the same time the idea of her leaving him for New York- <br/><br/>“Come to New York with me?” She asked suddenly and nervously. She made the decision of her school herself, based on what she wanted.</p><p>But it didn’t mean she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too.</p><p>“What?”<br/><br/>“I mean, I know you said you probably won’t be able to start classes until next year-- getting money and stuff together and some pre-college credits and stuff-- but move to the city with me anyway? There are more jobs and opportunities than there are here and I don’t know... maybe what we both need is to get as far away from Sherwood, Ohio as possible and New York City is about as different from here as you can get. Honestly, as much as I love my folks and my few close friends I just don’t think I ever want to live around here after high school. I know you love me and our friends here but I know Sherwood itself isn’t your ‘hometown’ so to speak and-” He stared at her with an unreadable look on his face as he sipped his slush. She was getting nervous, it was way too much to ask of him. How could she have been so selfish to think he’d want to follow her? “I’m sorry, oh my god, that was too much to ask. I know. Follow me to New York? I mean, that’s nuts and presumptuous and--” He cut her off with a kiss. She could taste the cold razzberry of his slush still in his mouth mixing with the lingering taste of cherry on hers. </p><p>“That sounds like a good plan actually,” he told her when he pulled away smiling, his hand lightly caressing her hair. “I promised you once I’d take you, didn’t I?” She smiled, remembering back to the morning after their first weekend together when they joked of going to coffee shops in New York City. He had promised to take her to one. "And hey, my mom was born and raised in New York," he added, with a shrug. "Maybe I should try living there once."</p><p>“Really? You want to do it? Come to New York with me? I mean, my parents already sent the check for the dorm fees and maybe it’s not best to move in together right away but-” He leaned in and kissed her again. It was the most effective way of rendering her speechless he had ever found.</p><p>“Can we worry about the details later?” He asked. “Right now I want to finish up these slushies,” he took one long last deep sip before rolling down the window and tossing his into the trash next to them. She finished up hers and he tossed it as well. “The next thing I want is to never think about Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, or Ram Sweeney ever again.” He leaned in and kissed her once more before starting the car. “But what I want to do most right now is take you back to my place where it’s quiet and warm and bury myself so deep inside you that we can forget everything else other than the two of us for a few hours.” Veronica’s lips quirked up into a glorious smile, realizing they were going to New York City together to start the next phase of their lives. “When that’s all said and done I’m going to start figuring out the best game plan for moving to New York with you. You know, they do have a lot of schools there to choose from.”</p><p>Veronica’s grin couldn’t be beat.</p><p>“All of that. I am absolutely for all of that. I can’t believe-” He kissed her one more time before they headed out.</p><p>Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney would live to be old people now, it was true. She knew it was for the best. Revenge on the three of them hadn’t made the world a better place when they tried it last time. She didn’t know if punishing them in this manner would get it through to them that their behavior needed to be checked. Veronica and JD had both changed, could they as well? It didn’t matter. They would now write themselves out of Veronica and JD’s life in a different way. Still permanently though if they had any say in the matter.</p><p>They were alive and well, that’s all that mattered. Now they could promptly fuck off. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>“You can all just kiss off into the air<br/></em> <em>Behind my back I can see them stare<br/></em> <em>They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind</em><br/><em>They'll hurt me bad they do it all the time<br/></em> <em>Yeah, yeah, they do it all the time<br/></em> <em>Yeah, yeah, they do it all the time.”</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>-</em>Violent Femmes (Kiss Off)</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope that was satisfying? I hope. Chandler is the hardest character for me to write I admit. Her whole storyline always felt like the weakest in this. </p><p>JD and Veronica moving to NY together to start a new life after high school was always where I wanted to send them. I haven't forgotten about JD taking her to the ocean though.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. I Love. I Have Loved. I Will Love.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica turns 18, and life moves on...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my gosh. It's been awhile since a regular update? I'm sorry! December is a busy time for me surprisingly. In case anyone doesn't see them I was actually uploading holiday stuff on the side stories page of this series for the last few weeks. (If you go to the next story in the series you'll see them.) Some things from the Christmas story are referenced in this update. The title is a reference to the last lines of one of my favorite novels "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith. Kate Bush's Hounds of Love is quoted. My favorite song on one of my favorite albums of all time. Kate Bush kind of exists outside of time.</p><p>Also, most importantly everyone MUST see this absolutely gorgeous piece of art Alexandra_dAutriche did. I can't gush over it enough. I inserted it into the beginning of the story. It is straight from chapter 18: <a href="https://alexandra-dautriche.tumblr.com/post/638468228797038592/zuzus-petals">Zuzu's Petals</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                                                                                        </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>I found a fox, caught by dogs<br/>
He let me take him in my hands<br/>
His little heart, it beats so fast<br/>
And I'm ashamed of running away<br/>
From nothing real, I just can't deal with this<br/>
I'm still afraid to be there<br/>
Among your hounds of love<br/>
I feel your arms surrounding me<br/>
I've always been a coward<br/>
And never know what's good for me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Kate Bush (Hounds of Love)</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b> <em>March, 1990</em> </b>
</p><p>In the weeks following the sort of expulsion of Heather, Kurt, and Ram Westerberg surprisingly went back to business as usual. It wasn’t suddenly a utopia of joy and friendship without the three biggest bullies around to enforce order but it did offer an easier form of breathing room for those that wanted to sit on the sidelines and not involve themselves. Were any real lessons learned from the student body as a whole? Probably not. Veronica had hoped her big speech to the student body about how mean Heather was would do some good, but honestly? Big speeches to large groups about not being mean to each other only really worked in the movies. </p><p>Heather Duke’s table at lunch was now the “it” table to sit at. Her status at having ratted on Heather had now become a rehearsed story on how she stood up to the evil queen and did the right thing. In the social world of high school where snitching was seen as the lowliest form of cowardice it was rather impressive to see how she could craft and spin that narrative to her suiting.  </p><p>Pretty soon she had established herself at her own table with her own flock. It was amazing just how quickly that had all happened. <em> Yesterday’s news; tomorrow’s trash </em> Veronica supposed. </p><p>She didn’t care. She established an unspoken armistice with Heather and her lot: she left her alone, and Veronica left her alone and they could all exist peacefully in their separate circles. “Peace in our time,” JD quipped to her as he was helping her help Martha carry supplies for her French club’s bake sale to the cafeteria to set up. Duke was sitting on a table holding court around her. She was glowing from ear to ear, her hair perfectly coiffed, as everyone hung on her every word. She had barely acknowledged the three of them as they went to the opposite end of the caf to set up.</p><p>“I suppose,” she agreed. "Though that didn't work out too well for Chamberlain." He snorted in agreement. Though Duke bought a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from Martha’s table and after eating that she had another one. Veronica didn’t see her go straight to the bathroom afterwards either. So maybe if change was possible for her and JD change was possible in that regard too.</p><p>A few days later they were all sitting at the same table together— Veronica, JD, Martha, Jeff, Kyle, and Heather Mac— when Heather Duke approached Mac who was sitting at the end. “Hey Heather,” Mac said to her tentatively with a smile.</p><p>“Hey Heather,” Duke responded. “You know, some of us are going over to the mall after school today to start looking at prom dresses. Maybe you could join us? You were always fun to shop with.” Heather Mac swallowed, unsure how to respond. She understood what this was. Duke was lifting her inner circle embargo left behind from Chandler’s reign on being in the inner circle. She was now being asked back in by Duke’s command.</p><p>Heather, Heather, and Heather had all been friends since middle school. Heather M would simply join them for whatever they wanted to do because, well, it was easy. Heather, Heather, and Heather. The Heathers. Being with the two of them had been such a large part of her identity for so long. But the last few months being so close with Veronica and Martha had been such a refresher. She felt like she was friends with two totally different but awesome girls, not just a side flank to one golden queen. It was knowing what being “friends'' meant now, not just people who you hung out with or ate with for social status but people you got along with and stuck up for. Heather knew that if what had happened to Veronica had happened to her and she were still friends with Duke and Chandler no one would have grabbed her, watched out for her, and made sure to stand by her. She hadn’t even thought when she had done it for Veronica. It was pure instinct.</p><p>But at the same time there was something sort of... genuine in the way Duke asked Mac to go prom dress shopping with her. She looked back at Veronica and Martha for some kind of signal for what to say on this invitation. Of course, no such signal existed as Veronica and Martha weren’t like Heather and Heather— they had no desire to police her behavior and who she spoke to.</p><p>If Heather wanted to be friends with Heather then she was welcome to. But Heather was wary of the “some of us” aspect of it. She glanced and saw Courtney at the table Heather Duke had been reigning over. She worried greatly that going back to that circle would lead her back to the person she used to be, and she worried they wouldn’t afford her the same luxury Veronica and Martha did to make friends and do what she wanted. She wasn’t looking for another girl clique to walk in step with.</p><p>“Thanks Heather,” Mac said honestly to Duke. “Maybe another time?” Duke looked a little disappointed. </p><p>“Yeah, another time,” she responded.</p><p>“No, really. Like, how about Saturday? You can come over and help me go through my closet. Mom wants me to start decluttering to ‘help me gain mental clarity’ or something. I don’t know, she read about it in some self-help book. She’s really into groups and books now.”</p><p>Duke laughed. “Oh jeez. It could be worse. My Aunt started reading that Dianetics book and going to groups after her divorce and eventually told us we were all ‘suppressive people’ and inhibiting her growth and stuff and stopped talking to us. She left for LA a few months ago. Dad said it’s, like, a cult.” Duke stopped, realizing what she said. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like talking about how your mom and dad’s, you know.” Mac laughed. </p><p>“Divorce? No, it’s okay. I’ve realized it’s not the end of times. Lots of people have divorced parents and stuff. It sucks, but it is what it is. And like, that’s good advice. Mom’s been on a self-improvement and ‘finding herself’ kick. I’ll make sure she steers clear away from that one then.” Duke laughed.</p><p>“Yeah, Saturday it is then. We can order pizza, maybe?” Duke asked hopefully.</p><p>“Pizza would be amazing!” Mac agreed, genuinely glad to see Duke so excited for calories. “And I’ll get the stuff for sundaes too. Like we did when we were in 6th?” She remembered fondly inviting the girls over for ice cream and makeovers before they all suddenly became obsessed with making sure they were size 4’s at all times.</p><p>“Yeah, that sounds great,” Duke agreed. She darted her eyes and headed back to her own circle. Mac sat down back with hers. Her boyfriend looked at her oddly. “What?” She asked. “Do I have something on my face.”</p><p>“You, uh- you’re going to be friends with Heather again?” Kyle asked her nervously. He had stayed quiet during the entire exchange she had had with Duke. Mac blinked at her boyfriend surprised by his tone.</p><p>“Well, I’d hardly call her coming over to help me go through my clothes and junk as ‘hanging out with them’ again.” He shifted nervously as the rest of her friend circle remained quiet, munching on sandwiches and the finest cuisine the HS cafeteria had to offer not wanting to intercede into what was clearly their issue.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean- it’s just-”</p><p>“I’m allowed to hang out and be friends with whomever I want,” she said definitively.</p><p>“You are, it’s just…” He sighed, she hadn’t realized how insecure he was about dating him versus going back to her old position in the Westerberg inner circle.</p><p>“For goodness sake, I adore you and no one’s going to tell me who I can and can not date. Not Heather Duke of all people and not you either. If there’s one thing I actually like from all these improvement seminars that mom’s been in it’s that I’m in charge of my own life and decisions. Just because I keep tentative ties to an old friend doesn’t mean I can’t be friends and stuff with all of you,” she said to herself as much as to the rest of her table. “This whole stay within your own group stuff is really dumb. I’m allowed to be a cheerleader, hang out with you all, date whomever I want, and be friends with anyone I want. I actually like being a cheerleader for the sake of it! I also like when we hang out and listen to tapes and stuff or you bring me to those bars we sneak into that my mom would die if she knew I was in to see all those weird musicians and comics and stuff you like. We’re graduating in a few months and I just want to enjoy them here with the people and things I like.” Mac blew her breath out with a laugh. “Well, I’ll put the soap box away now.” Martha clapped in support. “Thank you,” Mac told her. She then shook her head remembering. “You haven’t told me a word about your last date. Details. Now,” she demanded. </p><p>Veronica smiled looking back and forth from Heather to Martha, completely delighted to see the way they had changed and grew to be as Martha started to tell them about her latest date with the guy she had met at the party— still unsure if he was a ‘boyfriend’ yet— and was majorly enjoying herself with. </p><p>A new normal was now settling in for the whole lot of them. “Speaking of, you all want to come over Friday night to rent some movies and stuff?” JD piped up much to Veronica— and everyone’s else’s— surprise. He had never offered such in his own basement before. They all glanced at each other surprised by it. </p><p>“Oh I don’t know,” Kyle quipped, “it’s just such a long commute…” Heather laughed.</p><p>“Um, sure. You mind if I invite Tony?” Jeff asked, nervously. They were “dating” kind-of-sort-of-yes, but he wasn’t really ready to be out about it and even though he didn’t think his friends would say anything to him or be too awful about it… regardless, he wasn’t ready to be open and truthful but he still wanted to hang out with him more and for him to hang out with his friends too. It was all complicated and he was trying to figure out how to go about it. He figured the first step would be to start hanging out with him around friends more at the very least.</p><p>“Yeah, sure, whoever,” JD told him, unsure how much of a deal he should make it.</p><p>“Can I bring Jo? I really want you guys to meet him,” Martha added, excited. “I really want you guys to get to know him,” she said mostly to Veronica and Heather. </p><p>“Oh, it’ll be quite the party!” Heather squealed.</p><p>“No party!” JD said, laughing. “My landlady will kill me if I start bringing parties over.” Kyle burst into laughter considering the “landlady” was his mom.</p><p>“It’s fine. She works until 8 on Fridays and I’ll just subtly suggest she get drinks with her friends afterwards. Mom has one white wine spritzer with the girls at the hospital and trust me… she is down for the night. Besides, the basement’s pretty soundproof. Never hear anything down there even when Veronica’s-” He shut up embarrassed as Veronica’s eyes grew wide. Heather kicked him. “I said I didn’t hear anything! I-” Heather kicked him again before shooting him a, <em> drop it, you’re embarrassing her, </em>look.</p><p>Veronica laughed turning to JD, “can we make brownies together for everyone beforehand?” He turned to her surprised but shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want,” he responded surprised by how specifically she wanted brownies. “Gotta use my toaster oven to do it though.” Her heart melted and she sat back to enjoy this new life and the new joys it would bring.</p><p>“Wait, what are we watching?” Martha asked pushing past it all to the real question.</p><p>They all descended into a rigorous fight over the movie offerings. Veronica couldn’t have been more pleased to listen to the fight. </p>
<hr/><p>A week later, JD was spending an unusual lunch in the Westerberg cafeteria— Veronica was out with a bug— waiting to see if any of his other friends wanted to go out for lunch or join him. He waited with his chunky mass market copy of <em> The Stand </em> when he heard a very loud and obvious cough coupled with an, “ahem.” Carefully he lowered the book and saw sitting across from him a very studious looking Heather Mac and Martha. It wasn’t odd to have them talk to him but they were definitely “Veronica’s friends” and he was “Veronica’s boyfriend” and therefore tentative friends with them but they didn’t often talk or hang out on their own without Veronica present.</p><p>And the fact that they were staring at him with intent and clipboards was mildly terrifying.</p><p>Heather also had her fat pen with many colored inks to depress. This was troubling to say the least. He eyed them carefully before responding, “Heather, Martha… something I can help you with?”</p><p>Martha nodded. “As I am sure you are aware Veronica’s birthday is in less than a month.”</p><p>He looked at both of them confused. “Yeah, April 6th. I know.” Heather looked at him exasperated that his answer wasn’t exactly what she was looking for.</p><p>“Yes, her <em> eighteenth </em>birthday.”</p><p>“Again, I am aware of this.” He sighed and dog eared his page unsure how long this was going to be and what this was all about. It wasn’t that he disliked his girlfriend’s two best friends, it was just, well, they were <em> her </em>friends. And he had no idea what this was all about.</p><p>“I don’t think he gets it,” Martha told Heather. Heather sighed and showed him the clipboard.</p><p>“We are the official planning committee,” Heather explained, showing him her yellow pad filled with lists and ideas in different colored inks. “We have appointed ourselves in charge of her having the best eighteenth birthday ever.”</p><p>“Especially since, well…” Martha said, not really wanting to bring it up, but everyone knowing. “It was such a bad time for her the other month.”<br/>
<br/>
JD knew. The sort of expulsion of Heather Chandler, Ram Sweeney, and Kurt Kelly following their “prank” or as JD referred to it: assault. Gossip on <em> that </em>toppled out any gossip laid on Veronica though there was still the stray comment here and there about to what extent she may have had to play in the whole thing in regards to how much Veronica had lied or told the truth. And, unfortunately, some students still didn’t necessarily believe she was the victim of a cruel “prank” even with the evidence as presented and somehow still blamed her. </p><p>They were more commonly referred to as assholes.</p><p>That being said, football season was over and Kurt and Ram really <em> didn’t </em> have much to offer the student body so the fight to reinstate them in full was not one many thought was necessary.</p><p>It did take a lot of JD’s resolve to not break his promises to Veronica and seek those students out and shove them into the pavement but he did it anyway. His need to hurt them was not going to be the cause of her leaving him. He also couldn’t bear to see the hurt and disappointment in her face over him giving into his anger like that. Most importantly, he was trying to do what he was learning in therapy: not let his angry impulses overwhelm him to hurt others. It was hard, and he worked on it every day but so long as he kept acknowledging it he knew he would be better.</p><p>That being said, JD did completely agree with Martha and Heather: Veronica deserved an eighteenth celebration to remember. She had gone above and beyond for him on his own after all. And he loved her, completely. Granted, he wasn’t exactly an expert on birthday fun planning and a tiny part of him genuinely would like input in from her two best friends. Granted, the giant pen and clipboard scared the daylights out of him.</p><p>“Regardless, we are determined for this to be a special occasion. We just wanted to confer with you what your current plans are…?” She prompted opening to a fresh page of her legal pad and clicking her pen, poised to jot it down. “We would hate for there to be any conflicts or duplications.”</p><p>He blinked at them. He wanted to give her a good time but, like, it <em> was </em>nearly a month away. “Um, I don’t know. Dinner? Movie? Ice cream cake?” They both stared at him aghast. Heather put the pad and her pen down to explain.</p><p>“JD. This isn’t something that we would like to leave to chance or whim. Her birthday is a Thursday. We allow her parents to make their fuss then and the two of us are planning an elegant and intimate surprise party at my house that Friday night— to which you are more than welcome to join-”</p><p>“Thanks,” he said sarcastically. Heather didn’t hear him.</p><p>“You are failing to see. We did that so that you could take her out for a special night on Saturday. We know she would like a special date night, just the two of you. A nice intimate dinner.” He sighed. He knew that’s what she would like too. <em> Comb my hair. Wear something nice? Flowers? Candy? </em> He’d never bought her flowers before. He wasn’t really good with “special night” plans. He shrugged. <em> Yeah, maybe they could help with that. </em></p><p>“Fine, any suggestions? Where does she want to eat?” He rubbed his hand over his face suddenly worried he would mess this all up.</p><p>“Giuseppe’s,” Martha and Heather said in unison. Heather got a takeout copy of the menu out and slid it across the cafeteria table. </p><p>“It is her favorite restaurant,” Martha explained.</p><p>“This is Mexican food,” he asked confused.</p><p>“Veronica loves tacos,” Martha told him as if he didn’t know. “And hot dogs.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, yeah and sushi, I know that much, but the restaurant is called ‘Giuseppe’s’?”</p><p>“Their sushi night is actually really good there too,” Heather added to JD’s puzzlement. “But that’s Tuesdays. Look, we don’t have a lot of fine dining options in Sherwood, okay? Trust me, Giuseppe’s is the winner. It’s sit down, it’s nice but not too nice you can’t afford."</p><p>"Jo waits tables there Saturday nights," Martha said, still unused to the whole, 'I have a boyfriend thing.' "And he won't card you two if you want a drink. Though no more than that since you're driving," she warned. He nodded.</p><p>"And live music!" Heather told him. "Also the crepe suzette is really to die for.”</p><p>“Ooh, and the egg rolls,” Martha added.</p><p>“What kind of restaurant is this?” He asked, startled. They didn’t respond. “Okay, I guess that’s fine. We don’t need, like, reservations or-?”</p><p>“Oh, we took the liberty of doing that for you already,” Heather told him quite matter-of-factly. “You have the booth in the back for two at seven o’clock under your last name. Don’t worry, she’ll be suitably impressed with you. We have no intention of taking any credit for this.” He was blown away by their preparations.</p><p>“Much easier that way. We knew you’d take our advice,” Martha added.</p><p>“And make sure it’s a clean shirt,” Heather said carefully eying his current outfit for the day. “They don’t have a tie and jacket requirement anymore but they do have a neat and presentable requirement for dining in.” He looked down at his own moderately grungy shirt with an oil stain on the front from when he changed the oil of his car out during auto shop he had begun to take in January. It also had holes in the bottom where it frayed and pants that he threw on in the dark that morning and tugged his coat closed a bit in her judgement. He swallowed, trying to remember their hearts were in the right place. </p><p>“Okay, Giuseppe’s at seven it is,” he agreed.</p><p>“And take her back to your place after that in case you think she wants sex afterwards,” she told him to his shock writing it down. “Seriously, she doesn’t deserve the backseat of your car on her eighteenth,” Heather added making JD’s eye bug at the blunt way Heather spoke of his— and Veronica’s— sex life suddenly alarmed at how much she was aware of.  “Make sure it’s her focused,” JD shifted uncomfortably, “preferably oral or finger-”</p><p>“Okay Heather,” he interrupted, suddenly worried the whole school was listening. “I thank you for the dinner planning advice but I think maybe you’re concern is a bit-” </p><p>“Do you at least have any gift ideas?” Martha asked, unfazed by the blatant sex talk. “I procured her a lovely new blank journal and a fountain pen. They’ve both been inscribed with her initials. She’ll love it.” He nodded, agreeing.</p><p>“And I got her the sweater at Macy’s she was eying but decided against last time we were there,” Heather told him. “She’ll be thrilled.”</p><p>He shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he should show it to them yet but realized they weren’t going to back down. Carefully from his pocket he pulled out his latest woodshop project and showed it to them. It wasn’t finished and he hadn’t painted it yet but you could tell what it was and what it would be when he was finished.</p><p>“It’s not done,” he told them as they inspected it. “Or painted.” Martha and Heather considered each other, the gift, and then himself. “Look, I know it might seem dumb or cheap, but she’d get mad if I spent money on top of the dinner and stuff-” They did.</p><p>“Relax. We approve,” Martha told him definitively. </p><p>“Yes,” Heather agreed, eying it critically since normally she was pro-store bought gifts. Heather was always the type to just tell people to get a gift certificate rather than a bad gift. “It is nice, sentimental, and sweet and she will probably cry, but like, in a good way. She showed me the Christmas present which was similar. And that is what we were hoping for,” Heather added. “But seriously, that night? She really deserves to be gone down on, for sure. Don’t expect reciprocation. I mean, unless she wants to I guess.” JD threw his embarrassed head in his hands. Heather reached into her bag as JD was already beet red and in no mood for this. She pulled out a clipped article titled, “Clip This and Hand it to Your Lover: 25 Oral Techniques to Drive Her Wild.” He flipped it over immediately.</p><p>“Jesus! Heather!”</p><p>“Veronica is one of my best friends. She deserves this. And there’s some good advice in here, really,” Heather told him practically. “I mean, I’m sure you have your own methods but-”“Okay Heather that is literally the last time I want to discuss my sex life with you.” She yielded. That being said, he took the magazine article discreetly anyway though to glance at when he had the chance. <em> Just, you know, in case. </em></p>
<hr/><p>
  <b> <em>April 8, 1990</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Saturday Night, Two days following Veronica Sawyer’s 18th birthday</em> </b>
</p><p>Veronica sat in front of her mirror carefully finishing up her lipstick and reviewing the mature adult she saw in the mirror. Eighteen. She was eighteen years old now and embarking on a new life ahead of her. In the fall she and her boyfriend would be heading to New York. She’d managed to change the whole trajectory of her life. She stared at this young woman in the mirror staring back at her back. It had seen hardship and strife but after all that had begun to overcome it and grow into a new person Veronica was pleased to become. She loved, and was loved in return by family, friends, and her lover. That was so much more than she’d ever had in any lifetime. Hell, it’s more than a lot of people ever get. She was particularly grateful for it since the memories of the old life without it— with the pain and the heartache over her own actions— remained.</p><p>Talking with someone over the last month had really helped her too. The woman Dr. Beckett— a Dr. McMann—  had recommended was good and helped her really understand that what Kurt, Ram, and Heather had done to her was not a prank but assault and she needed to talk about it like that and how it made her feel to help her move on from it. She still struggled with how to bring up the feelings that still lingered from her first go around. So far she had brought up her lingering feelings of anger and her want for revenge and how she worried— or knew from experience— where that could lead. They were working on it. It felt good to have someone to talk to that wasn’t her parents, friends, or boyfriend— someone that could offer an outside perspective— and it was helping her all around to become this new person she was striving to be.</p><p>She got up and walked over to her desk where the picture frame— the one JD had made and given her last Christmas— sat with the picture of the two of them in it. Those two kids were happy but those two kids now would be happy for a long time she hoped. Together she also hoped. She opened up her diary. Her last entry had been the panic filled one worried what JD had planned for Kurt and Ram and reached for her new pen— the one Martha had given her that had her initials VS in cursive on it— and began a fresh entry.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Diary, </em>
</p><p><em> This will be my last entry in this book. I’m not done journaling, not by a long shot, but I’ve received a new one and this one is almost done. It reminds me of the last pages of </em> I Capture the Castle <em> when Cassandra comes to the end of her story— her journal— realizing she is no longer a child. It seems strange to say that three days ago I was a child, now because of this date marker I am an adult but that’s what we’re told, right? Oh gosh, just one more page left so I better say something pithy, urbane, and profound. One day some stranger in a strange land might find this journal and wonder about the ramblings inside of it. The story of revenge, misery, mental illness crisis, time travel, magic, and getting a second chance and think, ‘fuck, that chick was crazy.’ Who knows?  </em></p><p>She looked at the picture of her and JD again. They were going to prom and graduate in May. Then the summer. In September? The next chapter would begin properly. New York City. Together. She’d start her college courses, he’d get work then get his own coursework settled. Than… who knew? That was the best part of all. Who knew? She had never been so happy about uncertainty in her whole life.</p><p>
  <em> Regardless Dear Diary, I am through with you and will move on to the next one. JD’s coming soon to pick me up for a special date night. I have an overnight bag packed. This is the end for you, but not for me. I hope I find this one day years from now when I’ve forgotten about it. I’ll probably be shocked, embarrassed, and worried someone else may read it. Regardless, it is there, laid bare for all to see. The teenage angst bullshit of Veronica Sawyer, resident of Sherwood, Ohio and attendee of Westerberg High. Born: April 6th 1971, graduate of the class of 1990, and in 1994 she went back and fixed it, made right what once went wrong. She left the world and her surroundings a slightly better place than when she found it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This is her, signing off. </em>
</p><p>She closed it, but the cap on her pen. She brought it over to a special memory box she had since she was a child and placed it in there along with the diary she had kept when she was in middle school— mostly filled with lies about boys and dates and stuff she had made up wishing for a more exciting life— some pictures, and newspaper clippings. Satisfied, she closed the lid on it and put it in her closet. Neatly she put her new blank diary on her desk right in the middle. When she got home she knew she’d want to write about this night.</p><p>She glanced at the clock. JD would be there in twenty minutes to pick her up. Yesterday had been a surprise gathering with friends and it had been fun but he promised her this special night to give her his gift. He told her to look nice, but not fancy but the rest was a surprise. She had had her fun Thursday during lunch when he drove her to 7/11 to buy lotto scratch off tickets.</p><p>Veronica grabbed her bag and headed out ready for her date. She entered the living room and showed off her demure black mini-skirt, black mini heeled thigh high boots, and blue halter top paired with her jean jacket. Her hair was styled, coiffed, moussed and sitting perfectly on her shoulders. Her mother clapped approvingly.</p><p>“My beautiful eighteen year old,” her mother cooed. They had spent Thursday night having her favorite dinner— spaghetti and lots of oregano— and presenting her with her gift: permission— well, not permission because they knew since she was eighteen she didn’t need to ask anymore, more like a blessing to do so— to go on a small trip she wanted to take with JD after graduation. She was elated. They made her promise she was to pay for a lot of it out of her own savings, but her birthday gift was that they gave her a small amount to help out. </p><p>“Oh, lovely,” her mother added as she finished off showing off how she looked for her special date. “You’re wearing the necklace your grandmother got you.” Veronica touched it tenderly. She loved it. It was a gold chain with her birthstone— a small diamond— set with a small pearl. Her grandmother told her “every young woman should start off adulthood with a diamond. Luckily the stone is yours.” Her grandmother was kind of the best. </p><p>“I know. I love it. And he should be here in a few minutes to pick me up,” she explained checking her watch. She felt giddy. They hadn’t really had too many “dates” like this. They mostly just got together or hung out with their friends. “Double dates” were the closest but those were usually more like hangouts with their friends anyway. </p><p>“You look as radiant as you always have,” her father told her before he knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s the, uh, overnight bag for?” Veronica glanced at her mother for support before telling her father. They had broached the subject before but she was now going to be forthcoming with it.</p><p>“After our date we were going back to his place for cake. And, well, I’m gonna spend the night there,” she told him, breathing in deeply and sticking to her guns. “He said I could keep some things at his place so that I could spend the night whenever I wanted to. You know, in general.” She’d said it in a matter-of-fact way and with all the maturity she could muster. She was an adult now. </p><p>“Oh ho, that is not-” Her father began before her mother reached out and silenced him with her foot pressed on his. </p><p>“She is eighteen now,” her mother said firmly and her father sighed, resigned. “If you want to spend the night-” Her father was not terribly thrilled over this and was about to say something before her mother silenced him again. “And if you wish to spend the night at your boyfriend’s apartment then, well, we can’t tell you no. It is your adult judgement and adult decision to make. I— we,” she reminded her father, “—feel you are old enough now to make your own judgement calls. And we,” she emphasized the “we” again, “we trust you with JD.”</p><p>Her father closed his eyes and opened them after taking a deep breath. <em> She’s right. My little girl is not a little girl. </em>“Yes, your mother is… correct,” he choked out. “And we trust you with him and… him with you.” Veronica smiled at him brightly. She hugged him.</p><p>“I love you dad.” She hugged her mom. “I love you mom.”</p><p>“Just tell us when you do this,” he added firmly. “Call or let us know when you head out. You’re mother’s right, you don’t need our permission but being informed would be what a responsible adult would do for those who care about her. I don’t want your mother worrying anytime you don’t come home from now on.” She nodded furiously even though he said it was her mother that would worry she knew he would as well. “And eighteen or not you’re still in school and a responsible adult knows not to do something like that on a school night,” he warned.</p><p>“Of course! And you have his phone number you can call me when I’m there any time,” she assured them even though she hoped he wouldn’t do that often. She squealed as she heard the familiar sound of JD’s car and the honk of the horn. “That’s him!”</p><p>“Not even on your birthday is he willing to walk up to the door, huh?” Her father chided.</p><p>“Oh my god dad, it’s not the 60s, let it go!” She told him teasingly as she grabbed her purse and overnight bag and kissed his head, then her mom’s.</p><p>“Have a special time,” her mother told her as she ran out the door to hop into his car. </p><p>JD smiled as he saw her run out. He had one of her favorite albums— <em> Hounds of Love </em>, Kate Bush— and reached over and made sure the passenger side was open.</p><p>He smiled as he eyed her ensemble approvingly. “Don’t you look hot tonight.” She giggled as she leaned over and kissed him hello.</p><p>“Me? Look at you! The nice sweater, huh? How fancy we getting?” She asked excitedly as he tugged at it uncomfortably. “And did you… do your hair?” He blanched at her assessment. He had combed it and used a little get to keep it down. “Also, are you willingly listening to Kate Bush?” He normally groaned whenever she put her on. </p><p>“All for you baby,” he told her. “It’s your birthday, and it’s a special night.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I brought you candy,” he told her with a quirk of his lips as he handed her a pack of Starbursts. She loved the sentiment.</p><p>“I love it! Where are we going? Where are we going?” She asked as he peeled out and down the road.</p><p>“It’s a freaking surprise Veronica. You’ll find out when we get there. Calm down,” he teased.</p><p>“But I wanna know.” He laughed, glad to have this over her for a few minutes.</p><p>“You’ll find out soon.” She couldn’t keep her delight and excitement at bay.<br/>
<br/>
“You look so nice. Is this a preview for prom night?” He shot her a look and turned the wheel as he made his way to the restaurant and parked the car. “You got us a reservation at Giuseppe's?” She squealed. </p><p>“Happy birthday,” he told her while parking his car. They got out and she heard the click of her heal on the pavement as she stepped out. Excited she put her purse on her shoulder and he came around to offer his arm. She took it and they walked into the restaurant.</p><p>A couple was ahead of him but Veronica could already hear the small band setting up for the night. They were in nice attire and consisted of a brass, double bass, and piano player. They looked like the kind of music her parents would like to dance to if they went out. There <em> was </em>a space in the middle, she briefly wondered if dancing was a thing or not.</p><p>The older couple ahead of them were seated. “Can I help you?” The hostess asked.</p><p>“Um, yeah. Dean. Two,” he told her awkwardly having never made a reservation at a restaurant in his life.</p><p>“Ah, yes, the birthday party,” she said. Veronica lit up, surprised as they got to the back where there was a booth. It had a great view of the band. She sat down and the hostess handed them menus and she told them the waiter would be with them shortly. They thanked her. JD stared at her over the menu. He breathed a sigh of relief. Heather was right, it was nice, but it wasn’t <em> too nice </em> for him to afford.</p><p>“Veronica, I wanna be honest. Heather and Martha made the reservation. I’m not… I’m not good at planning these sort of things and I don’t want you to think- I want to take you out nice like this and I don’t mind I just- fuck, I’m explaining-”</p><p>She reached out and touched his hand. “I figured,” she told him. “I didn’t even think you knew about this place. You took their suggestion and the intent is what I appreciate more than anything.” The waiter arrived at their table and Veronica broke apart. </p><p>“Good evening,” he told them. “Can I get you drinks to start?” Veronica and JD stared up at him, glad to see the familiar face.</p><p>“Martha’s best friend since babies and her boyfriend. Veronica and JD,” he said warmly. Veronica couldn’t help but smile. His longish hair was neatly tucked away in a low ponytail for serving at this fine establishment and in black pants and a white shirt, the cloth napkin over his arm. He looked like a totally different guy like this.</p><p>“Hi,” she told him. “It’s good to see you.”</p><p>“That’s right. Martha warned me you’d be here for the birthday date. I’ll make sure it is a fantastic night, don’t worry,” he told them.</p><p>“Thanks,” she told him. He <em> was </em>nice. She wasn’t surprised. She never thought Martha would be head over heels for a guy that was mean. “As far as drinks go I’ll have a glass of wine. Please,” she asked nervously, testing out if he’d card.</p><p>“I’ll swing one, okay?” He told her quietly. “What kind?” Veronica stared at the menu and back at him unsure. She’d never ordered wine before and wasn’t aware there were options. Her parents rarely ordered drinks when she went out with them. She swallowed. “The house wine seems like the best, you’d agree?” She asked, pointing at the cheapest option.</p><p>Jo leaned down and explained. “House means the cheapest option. Ours is barely a step above the grocery store boxed. If you want a red I’ll bring you a pinot noir we have that’s sweet, okay? You’ll like it.” Veronica nodded, grateful.</p><p>“You driving?” He asked JD.</p><p>“Yeah, so it’s-”</p><p>“I can do a halfie if you want a beer,” he offered, meaning half a normal glass. “On the house, I won’t charge you for it as long as it’s on the tap.”</p><p>“Oh, cool, thanks” JD told him. “Um, Heineken?” He asked, assuming it was the fancy beer selection in the nicest restaurant in a town like Sherwood.</p><p>“Sounds good. I’ll be right back. The band’s about to start up. You’re in for a treat, these guys are tight. My buddy Adam’s on the keys. He plays in a rock band at Howsers on Monday nights in the summer. I wanna take Martha. You guys should come with.” They nodded in agreement as he filled their water glasses from a pitcher. JD got up momentarily to use the restroom. Veronica looked around and saw the restaurant lit up with other tables and groups. Friends, dates, families… it was a good night. The band started playing a light number, nothing to disallow for conversation to be had, and JD returned to the table. A few moments later Jo returned with the drinks.</p><p>“Thank you,” they both told him, still stunned he served them underage. </p><p>“If anyone asks— which they probably won’t— you’re 21, okay?” They nodded. “Are you ready to order?”</p><p>“Yeah,” JD said. “I’ll-”</p><p>Veronica stopped him right there. “That’ll be two taco platters. Chicken in mine, beef in his,” she told him, taking charge. Joe chuckled, impressed at her chutzpah.</p><p>“The taco platters it is. Fries or rice with that?”</p><p>“Rice,” Veronica said. JD was quiet until Veronica prompted him.</p><p>“Oh, I’m being allowed my own input, huh? Fries please,” he told him. Jo took their orders down and grabbed their menus. “You really love ordering for me, don’t you?”</p><p>“I know best sometimes at the restaurant. Trust me. The taco platter is life here.” He acquiesced.</p><p>“You’re the birthday girl,” he told her. He took his glass of beer and held it up. Veronica held her wine glass as well. “Happy birthday Veronica.” They clinked their glasses and Veronica tentatively took a sip of her wine. It was… nice actually. She still wasn’t quite used to the taste but he was right, it was sweet. JD took a sip of his beer.</p><p>“Thank you. I know you had help, but this is great really.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced his present. Veronica put her glass down and eyed it curiously. “What’s this?” She asked.</p><p>“Your present,” he told her obviously. “Open it.”</p><p>“You really shouldn’t have. This dinner and date are more than-”</p><p>“Open it.” She did and what she saw nearly floored her. He had made her a carving of two birds. It was exquisitely crafted and they connected at the beaks, like they were kissing. One had a blue stripe down its back, the other with a black one. She bit her lip, trying to contain her emotions. It was beautiful and it was them: in carven bird form. “I just learned how to make birds. If I could carve something better I-” She looked up at him leaned up and put a finger over his mouth.</p><p>“Shut your mouth. Now. It’s beautiful. I love it.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He asked, relieved.</p><p>She nodded, carefully wiping her tears away so as to not ruin her makeup. She turned it upside down and saw in scratchy letters the carving:</p><p>
  <em> VS/JD 90 </em>
</p><p>She ran her thumb over it reverently. He was really kind of the best. “This is one of the best birthdays ever. And I love this.” She swallowed her emotions and turned to the music. Jo was right, the band was good even if it was old people music. Pretty soon the food arrived and they dived in, hungry.</p><p>“Okay, that taco platter was amazing,” he admitted when they were mostly done. It was huge, and they both had only managed to finish half of them. Jo came to clean up the table. </p><p>“Okay am I wrapping these up? This place does that cheesy thing where they make it look like a swan.” </p><p>“Yes, thank you so much,” she told him.</p><p>“Yeah, thank you again.”</p><p>“Of course. I’ll give you both a chance to enjoy the music, we don’t have to turn the table soon and the band’s about to start something cool. Also, your crepe suzettes are on the way as the gentlemen asked,” he told them with a smile. Veronica laughed and thanked him profusely.</p><p>“I like your desert ordering skills,” she told him. He bowed, accepting his compliment and finishing the small beer before working on his water. She took another sip of her wine— she wasn’t a huge drinker so she could feel it gleefully working it’s way through her body warming her up— and noticed that other couples were dancing. He noticed her noticing. He waited a moment to say anything when-</p><p>“All right, and this next song is for a Veronica Sawyer.” She turned to him and he nodded and stood up. He reached his hand out for her. “JD wants you to know happy birthday.” Some of the other patrons started staring at them kindly and lightly clapped to her happy embarrassment and he tugged her up for one small slow dance to the instrumental music. Veronica felt like they were in heaven.</p><p>It was just one dance but it was nice and they sat back down for dessert. When they were done they got their check and JD completely took it away from even Veronica’s vague attempt to check if she could at least get the tip. “It’s your birthday,” he reminded her. Also, Jo was very nice to them on the check. JD made sure to leave a bigger tip than he normally would have. They thanked him on their way out and told them they looked forward to a hang out with Martha possibly the next weekend. If his mission had been to butter up his new girlfriend’s best friend to get in with her better, well, mission accomplished. Not that she thought he had any real ulterior motives. He really did just seem like a nice guy.</p><p>As they got in the car, JD turned to her. “So… my place?” He asked, not wanting to assume anything.</p><p>“I brought an overnight bag,” she explained. </p><p>He swallowed, excited for the implication but worried nonetheless. “I don’t want your parents mad at me.”</p><p>“I talked to them. I’m eighteen and I want to spend the night at my boyfriend’s and that was the discussion.” It was the final answer. He nodded, and started the car up and didn’t argue but a warmth spread through him realized she’d be able to spend the night not just tonight with him, but as many nights as they wanted.</p><p>They were back at his place now. He marveled at how much warmer it was inside his basement that spring night with her in it. He undressed her slowly, kissing her softly as he did his best to keep his focus on her and him second. It <em> was </em> her birthday after all. He only stopped momentarily to put on the Kate Bush tape. “Wait here,” he told her as he did so. She had no objections to doing this to <em> Hounds of Love. </em>She heard it come on and warmth spread through her.</p><p>
  <em> When I was a child, running in the night… Afraid of what might be... his little heart it beats so fast. </em>
</p><p>She stood up momentarily and he watched transfixed as she unhooked her bra letting it drop to the floor and reached down to slide her own matching lace panties off. She breathed in deeply, desperate for his touch and climbed into his bed and under his covers to wait for him. “Get undressed and join me,” she told him quietly.</p><p>He did as she commanded and quickly joined her. They were quiet for a moment as they cuddled there facing each other naked underneath the sheets. He was ready, but he swallowed trying to keep his own desire focused on hers. “I love you. You made the night special,” she told him, reaching out to touch his hair.</p><p>“You deserve it,” he told her. “I love you,” he breathed, reaching over to her ear to begin his tender physical ode to that sentiment. He moved his hand down her body to touch her breasts than down between her legs where she was ready. “Let me show you how special you are,” he whispered as he began to worship her body the way it deserved.</p><p>She was lying next to him in his bed smiling at him, her eyes soft with a glow. He’d gone down on her before but this time had been... Magical to be honest. She had told him as much since she believed credit should be given whenever due, cheeks flushed from their coupling. “I’ve never- I mean… how well I-” she laughed lightly. “I, um, it was good. Really good.” Breathless he took her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm of it before reaching down for a pair of sweatpants near his bed to get up for a moment. She sat up and watched him, resting on her elbow. She could watch him in this domestic kind of setting for hours to be honest. There was that niggle in her mind again, the one that prodded gently at the idea of moving forward in their relationship. <em> It’s too soon, </em> she had to keep reminding herself. <em> They had time now. Don't rush it. </em>To distract herself, she rolled over to his nightstand and took the small carved wooden piece. </p><p>“Are you sure you like it?” He asked as he watched her examine it more carefully after having run some water in his hair to get the gel out. She liked him this way, in just sweatpants, wet hair, and with her about to go to bed. “It’s not perfect. I can see all the mistakes and-”</p><p>“I love it,” she told him. “It’s the sweetest thing  you’ve made for me. You’re just really hard on yourself. Too much of a perfectionist with this stuff.” He shrugged. She turned it over and brushed her thumb reverently over the initials and date he’d carved into it:</p><p>
  <em> JD/VS 1990 </em>
</p><p>“I’m glad you like it then,” he told her. She laughed as Marcel banged around his habitat up for his nightly rounds. She admired his handy work in regards to the habitat.</p><p>“You really are talented at this stuff,” Veronica told him honestly. “I mean look at this habitat you built for Marcel,” she told him looking over at the corner of his basement at the— there was no other way to describe it— mansion he had put together for the little guy to play in. “He has a swing set, a rope bridge leading to each of his three floors, a sand bath, and a house for him to hide in,” she marveled at the structure he had put together from spare wood and other simply procured materials.</p><p>“Still too small for him,” he chided himself. “He deserves more.” Veronica quite enjoyed how much he seemed to truly care for Marcel’s well being. Remembering, he walked over to the habitat to give him his nightly meal. “Hey buddy,” he cooed as he grabbed his food dish and the hamster walked up and gently prodded his head against JD’s finger. It hadn’t taken long for JD to properly bond to him and vice versa. Veronica continued to watch in delight as he put the dish down and instead picked him up with both hands in a cave formation to give him some affection. “What do you think? A see-saw or a digging hideout next? Both? Yeah? I’ll have them ready for you soon.” He put him back in and refilled his food before taking his water bottle, washing it, and replacing it. “Remind me I need to clean his habitat tomorrow.”</p><p>“I will. And I’m serious,” Veronica said. “I really think this is what you’re good at.” He shrugged as he finished up and slipped back into bed with her.</p><p>“Yeah, well, when we get to New York I’ll start preparing for the entrance exams,” he confessed tentatively. “I, um, started looking into it. There’s a good program at City College that’s not expensive but it’s hard to get in especially with my shitty transcripts,” he said, almost regretfully. </p><p>“That’s not entirely your fault,” Veronica comforted him. “You moved around so much.” </p><p>“That might be true but still,” he told her. “I can’t expect them to be understanding about it. I’m gonna enroll for some courses in the fall at Laguardia just to get on track. It’s a junior college, I should get in. I don’t know, hopefully someone there can advise me. If I get really good steady work and qualify as a NY resident I can study for the exam maybe for next January?” He guessed, still ironing out the details. Ever since their conversation about moving to New York his brain had been working on the practicality of it all. There was the money in his account— minus the bit he had used to pay Kyle’s mom for the basement, but really that wasn’t that much considering she had knocked a bunch off for shoveling in the winter, fixing things up, mowing the lawn, and what not— which would be enough for a deposit on a room and at least a month or two in case it took him longer to find a job— any job at first— so he could have income again. He had already arranged a higher paying summer job at the local day camp that Veronica already worked at during the summers as the sports/equipment maintainer as well as general repair/fix-it guy and hoped the money for that would help provide him a good cushion to launch this grand adult plan of theirs. </p><p>Thinking about the practicality of it all was easy. It was all lists to tick mark off a checklist. </p><p>“You’ll get in,” she promised him, fully believing it. “You’re smart and when you try you succeed so well.” She was on her back and he was leaning over her carefully stroking her hair behind her ear. “I’ll help you study if you want.” He snorted.</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like it’ll end up with a lot of studying being done.” She smiled slyly at him, running her hand up his chest before going south. </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, I can provide a lot of incentives for getting the right answer,” she whispered as her hand trailed down to the waistband of his sweatpants. He laughed and stopped her hand. She furrowed her brow, confused.</p><p>“Hey, you’re the birthday girl.” It clicked in her head.</p><p>“Was that why your mouth was so, um, eager between my legs earlier?” She asked. He looked uncomfortable but ultimately admitted the truth about the article Heather had foisted on him. She laughed uproariously at the idea of him studying it.</p><p>“You liked it, right?” He asked, defensively.</p><p>“Of course I did,” she told him straight. “I’ve never- I mean that was the best- you know how good it was.” He chuckled and brushed himself against her. She sighed in response.</p><p>“Okay, so how about one more time?” He asked as she opened her legs to him willingly. </p><p>“You do spoil me so,” she sighed to him.</p><p>The lights were off, it was late, and she was asleep next to him. In the slight glow from outside the half windows provided he could just make out her sleeping form, covered by his blanket and on her side. He was carefully stroking her hair, hoping not to wake her.</p><p>New York. They were going to move to New York together. When she had told him her plans and invited him along for the ride he could hardly believe it. He could hardly say yes fast enough. It didn’t matter where they lived, not really, so long as she wanted to live near him. He wanted her to go to college, whichever one she decided on. He wanted her to be whatever amazing thing she was going to be, he just wanted to be near her bright light. When she asked him that question to join him it hadn’t been a decision at all, merely relief. Relief that she felt as committed to him as he was to her.</p><p>It was at that moment it dawned on him. <em> I’m going to be hers for as long as she lets me. </em>A stray thought about the ring his mother had left him floated into his mind, but he batted it away just as quickly. He slipped back under the covers, pulled her close and kissed her.</p><p>“JD?” She whispered, half awake. “What’s- what’s?”</p><p>“Sh, go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Mmm… your arms are nice,” she mumbled as she pulled him tightly against her. He closed his eyes and followed her to sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Oh, here I go</em><br/>
<em>Don't let me go</em><br/>
<em>Hold me down</em><br/>
<em>It's coming for me through the trees</em><br/>
<em>Oh, help me, darling, help me, please</em><br/>
<em>Take my shoes off and throw them in the lake</em><br/>
<em>And I'll be two steps on the water</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Kate Bush (Hounds of Love)</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only two more to go! This actually got longer if you can believe to accommodate more of Veronica's birthday. Seeing how it goes I *may* make it 31/32 chapters? Trying to keep it an even thirty, lol. My rewrites always lead to more scenes!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Born to Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Veronica, et. all go to prom, graduate, and close out this chapter of their lives.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my god, oh my god-- one more to go. Okay, here's a pic I found of Veronica's prom dress, I'd totes wear that today. OMG, a Jessica McClintock was the height of prom fashion back in the day. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/428545720783498794/</p><p>Songs:<br/>"Hold Me Now" -- Thompson Twins<br/>"Prove My Love" -- Violent Femmes<br/>"Born to Run" -- Bruce Springsteen</p><p>(And keep reading to the end note)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Memorial Day Weekend, 1990<br/>
The Westerberg Prom </em>
</p><p>Veronica’s mother and father peered out the window as JD’s car pulled up in front of the house the night of Westerberg’s prom. They waited for him patiently to turn his music off, get out of his car, and knock on their door nicely. He didn’t. He simply sat in the driver’s seat like it was a normal night of picking her up and waited.</p><p>“He’s not even going to come up to the door on the prom?” Mr. Sawyer said a bit leery. He was still grumpy that even after all this time the boy still didn’t walk up and ring the doorbell for his daughter nicely.</p><p>“Oh, he’s not doing that to her,” Mrs. Sawyer told him, swatting his arm. “Not on prom night.” She watched as he sat there, drumming on the wheel to the tape he had on, still waiting for her. He honked his horn. “Oh my god, he is. No. No, no, no, no. My daughter is not being summoned by the honk of a horn on prom night of all nights.” On that note, Mrs. Sawyer walked out the door and marched over to the car. </p><p>She rapped on his window and made the motion for him to unroll it. He did.</p><p>“Mrs. Sawyer. Nice to, um, see you,” JD said turning the volume on his stereo down.</p><p>“Hello JD, it’s lovely to see you as well. As I’m sure you know, it is prom night.”</p><p>“It is,” he responded, not understanding. “That’s, um, why I’m here. To pick Veronica up.”</p><p>“So I can see you are aware of it. Here’s the thing: you will not pick my daughter up waiting in the car for her like you normally do tonight. She is not being summoned in her prom dress to a horn honking. She has spent all afternoon getting ready and is very excited for you to pick her up. She is even wearing your mother’s pearls— which look absolutely charming on her— mine’s earrings, and her grandmother’s bracelet. All of this to say: she looks radiant tonight.”</p><p>“She does, huh?” JD said, trying to keep his own excitement at bay.</p><p>“Yes,” Mrs. Sawyer told him, detecting his own excitement for taking Veronica out and being genuinely touched by it. “She does.” She was determined though. “That being the case, you will come to the door and engage her parents in chit chat for one night so that she can walk down the stairs to meet you and we may get some photographs.” She was very stern. With a sigh, he turned his car off and got out of the front seat grabbing his suit jacket with him.</p><p>“Who does he think he is, Johnny Cash?” Her father muttered when he saw JD’s black jacket, shirt, and tie as he walked up the front with his wife. It didn’t fit him completely right and was crumpled— presumably because he did not own an iron or even know that he should press a suit jacket— but his hair was neatly combed down with some gel and he was freshly shaven. Mr. Sawyer was glad that he at least didn’t have that ugly long trench coat of his.</p><p>She opened the door for him and JD nodded at Veronica’s dad. “Mr. Sawyer, nice to see you again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Jason,” he said. They shook hands and Mr. Sawyer squeezed a bit harder than necessary.</p><p>“I’ll let Veronica know you’re here,” her mom said pleasantly. Her mother walked up to her room and lightly knocked on the door.</p><p>“Yeah, mom?” She asked, still double checking herself in the mirror. Her mother walked in and looked at her with a smile.</p><p>“You look perfect.” She walked over and lightly smoothed down her dress and kissed the side of her head ever so careful not to disrupt her hair or makeup. She touched the pearls around her daughter’s neck, delicately. “They do look lovely on you,” she told her daughter honestly. “They match the earrings so nicely and that bracelet was special to your grandma. She’s so happy to let you wear it tonight. I promised her I’d take a thousand pictures.” Veronica laughed, hearing her grandma say it. Her mom tried very hard to capture the moment for all it was worth. She tried to hold back the tears, but they spilled anyway.</p><p>“Oh mom, don’t. You’ll make me cry and I already did my makeup.” She laughed. “Anyway, did I hear JD pull up? I thought I heard his car honking.”</p><p>“He’s waiting for you in the living room.”<br/>
<br/>
“He is? Oh god, I better go rescue him from dad.” She grabbed her clutch purse double checking it for her keys, wallet, cosmetics, tissues, and the prom tickets.  “How does he look?” She asked, excited. Her mother didn’t frown exactly but she didn’t smile.</p><p>“He looks, well, he looks like himself,” her mother told her diplomatically. Veronica laughed to herself. She’d rather hoped he would. All her talk of wearing nice clothes aside, she rather enjoyed his own unique sense of self.</p><p>“Does he at least have on a tie and jacket?” She asked.</p><p>“Well, he does have that.” Mrs. Sawyer wasn’t quite sure which church’s thrift store he found them in, but he found them nonetheless for the night. “There was definitely an effort put into it. I can appreciate that.” She stopped her daughter from going down. “Do me a favor? Give him one more minute to stew with your father, okay?” </p><p>“God knows what dad’s saying to him,” Veronica fretted. They were no longer adversarial and she knew her father no longer disliked him or disapproved of her with him but they had yet to really be alone to talk to one another that she could think of.</p><p>“It’s prom night honey. Half the fun for your father is making your date nervous. Let him have this one time. ” Veronica laughed and nodded, wishing she could see it.</p><p>JD and Mr. Sawyer awkwardly sat in the living room waiting for Veronica. JD was aware and convinced that there was no animosity and he no longer opposed his daughter’s relationship with him, but they weren’t chummy regardless. Especially since he was now aware that JD and his daughter’s relationship was not just romantic but also sexual in nature. He may respect their feelings and relationship as real, yes. But be best friends? </p><p>JD’s leg was twitching hoping the end of this alone time would be soon and Veronica could come down and end the awkwardness.</p><p>“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile,” Mr. Sawyer spoke up calmly. JD’s foot stopped. “I want to say this to you without Veronica or my wife present. Something that’s just between us,” he told JD quietly. JD looked at him, surprised. “About what happened at that party that night.” JD swallowed. They had never discussed it, not really. </p><p>“Look, we don’t-”</p><p>“No. I need to say this. Those awful boys who hurt Veronica back in February.” JD stiffened at the reminder of that horrible night, and his own still lingering guilt over not making sure she wasn’t 100% safe from them mixed with the reminding fear of what that anger had almost made him do. “It’s my understanding that you hit them. Repeatedly. And very hard. Both the night of, and the Monday at school.”<br/>
<br/>
There was no use lying, and he was aware that her father did not like that he got into fights. “Look, I’m sorry-”</p><p>“Don’t apologize. Just tell me one thing: how good did it feel to hit them?” JD was stunned. It wasn’t what he expected to be asked.</p><p>“Um, in the moment? Really good, honestly. But I know that it wasn’t a long-term solution-”</p><p>“I know. And I know that you know that. But, I can’t help it. I’m glad you did it. They are scum. If I were not in my forties, a father, and an all around responsible adult I would have probably done the same.” JD looked at him stunned. “Look, I told her this so I may as well tell you the same. It wasn’t your fault. You protected her that night. You made sure nothing worse happened to her. You got her somewhere safe and you took care of her afterwards. I respect that. A lot. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. And… you’ll both be in New York soon. I can’t protect her there from here. I trust her and I know she’s not helpless but… still. I am glad that you’ll be there with her just in case.” Mr. Sawyer let out a lengthy breath and they both took in the admission. </p><p>“Thank you,” JD said, taken aback by his kind words to him. “That really, um- thank you. That means a lot, actually. And I told you once I’d never let anyone hurt her. I won’t. Not ever.” Mr. Sawyer did remember. He remembered the night they had met rather well.</p><p>“Even yourself?” He asked one more time.</p><p>“Even myself,” he assured him, remembering how close he had come to his own self-destructive habits hurting her. Bill Sawyer realized then and there that his apprehension and worry that the boy his daughter was with was so different from his own self was incredibly unfounded. Superficiality aside they had the two most important things in common: they loved Veronica and would protect her to the ends of earth. They’d both die for her. Not that either of them wanted any dying to go on.</p><p>They paused. JD started nervously tapping his foot again. He had on his regular motorcycle boots. The only other shoes he owned were the sneakers he wore to run in. He didn’t own another pair at the moment but they were black and they went with the black suit he got at the Salvation Army Store that he was surprised fit him. Sorta. The sleeves were a bit short on his long arms, but it closed over his torso at least.</p><p>“Your tie’s on wrong,” Mr. Sawyer told him frankly. JD looked at the messy knot. The last time he had worn one they had buried his mother. He had a vague memory of his grandfather wordlessly tying it on him as his father sat in their old living room in the old house in Texas with the Jim Bean in his hand. He remembered it tightly around his neck like a noose. </p><p>JD never did learn how to tie one properly himself.</p><p>“I, uh, don’t really know how-” Mr. Sawyer sighed. He honestly felt bad for him. <em> Of course his father never showed him. </em></p><p>“Stand up,” he told him. “I can’t let her go to prom with a boy who can’t tie a tie.” JD did and Mr. Sawyer unraveled it. Carefully he helped put it on him as he tried very hard not to have this remind him of when he was his age and his own father had shown him.</p><p>“Thank you,” JD told him. Mr. Sawyer shrugged in a “you’re welcome” kind of way. </p><p>Mr. Sawyer was pulling it up and adjusting his collar as he said, “also, the, uh, pearls were nice. Veronica showed me. My wife assures me your mother had very good taste in jewelry.” By “very good taste” Mr. Sawyer meant expensive. JD wasn’t a dope: he was commenting on the expensive and serious nature of the gift.</p><p>“Oh, um, yeah, just thought it was right to do. I know it probably came off a bit, extreme, but, well, I do believe the extreme always makes an impression.” Mr. Sawyer finished with his tie making sure it was nice and tight. For a hot moment JD thought he might strangle him with it. </p><p>“That being said,” Mr. Sawyer said in a serious tone. “I Just wanted to make sure there wasn’t an engagement ring in her jewelry box as well.” JD coughed, loosening the knot a touch, and caught his drift. And remembering that there was one in fact.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, not at prom.” Mr. Sawyer was relieved to hear it. “I was actually going to wait and pop the question at graduation.” Her father choked and coughed. “That was a joke, Mr. Sawyer, just a joke.”</p><p>“It better be,” her dad said as he clapped JD on the back staring at him point blankly. JD choked a bit until he saw her dad’s expression change in a heartbeat. “Oh peanut, you look beautiful.”</p><p>“Thanks dad.” It was then that JD turned and saw her. The Prom may be a waste of time, money, and sanity but at least he’d get to fix this moment in his brain for the rest of his life. Veronica Sawyer sheathed in a blue Jessica McLintock dress with a sweetheart neckline that just bared her shoulders and decolletage stood at the top of the stairs smiling at him. At just him. The skirt had a slight poof and it just touched her ankles like a 60s dress except for the rhinestones which popped in the light. He smiled when he saw his mom’s pearl necklace gracing her lovely throat and smooth neckline. He was right, they were meant to be hers. Her hair was styled in curls but the best part, JD thought, was the smile on her face when she caught his eye. She was his, all his. And he was hers, all hers.</p><p>The spell was broken when Veronica flinched at the flash of her mom’s ancient camera. “Come on Mom, warn a girl first.”</p><p>“You just look so nice!” She squealed. “So grown up!”</p><p>JD finally interceded and handed her the rose he got from the florist. Heather M had gone out of her way the day before to make sure he remembered to do it— and that her dress was blue— which he was glad for. It hadn’t been something he would have remembered on his own. “Corsages were out when I got there,” he admitted and she tried not to look disappointed prom and all that was not his specialty. “But the lady at the flower shop was nice.” He remembered distinctly the look of panic he must have had on his face when he got there last night before she closed desperate for one. The poor woman luckily took complete pity on him and whipped him up something quickly. “Told her you had a blue dress. She told me white roses and blue ribbons with the baby breath would look nice on it. I hope… I hope you like it?” He asked, nervously. </p><p>“I love it,” she said honestly as she touched it. They weren’t used to a ton of affection in front of her parents, but she reached up and gently kissed his cheek in thanks. He was more than relieved.</p><p>JD waited nervously, as she allowed her parents to fuss over her and take a few pictures. Eventually the moment he was dreading happened. He was being motioned into the photo with her. It had been a very long time since a parental figure insisted on taking a picture of him and it was very nerve wracking.</p><p>“I just want one, okay? Just one.” Awkwardly JD stood next to Veronica and allowed her mother to take the photo. “Oh god, c’mon, like you like each other.” They laughed and got closer.<br/>
<br/>
“Okay mom, you’ve tortured him enough we should get going,” Veronica said after the fifth picture.</p><p>“Okay, you two have fun tonight, okay?” Her mom kissed her cheek lightly, not wanting to smear her makeup and Veronica grabbed her purse and JD took the bag she had packed for the weekend. “Oh and take this.” Her mom handed her a small envelope. She opened it and smiled. It was sweet. She had put some cash in it just in case she needed it, quarters if she needed the payphone and, a business card for the local cab company in case they drank— not that she endorsed them underage drinking she just wasn’t stupid and knew it was prom night— and also enclosed were- “Mom!” Her eyes bulged when she saw the condoms.</p><p>“I just want you to be safe,” her mother said knowingly. She leaned in and whispered in her ear, “like I told you, the pill is very effective but it should always be used in conjunction with a condom.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mom!” She hissed again. Besides, she had settled the matter last month when she was at the gynecologist and she was all set in her birth control options. Granted, the condoms wouldn’t necessarily go amiss. </p><p>“Have fun kids! And don’t worry about coming home. It’ll be easier to leave for your camping trip that way,” her mother told her. “Call us if you need anything though,” she told them. On a whim she even pulled a very shocked JD in for a small hug. “Really, please. If you need anything.”</p><p>“Um, yeah, sure,” he told her, genuinely surprised and touched but still not sure how to show that.</p><p>“Yes, have a wonderful time,” Mr. Sawyer told them both.</p><p>“I love you guys, I’ll see you Sunday night,” she squealed in delight as JD tugged her out the door to his car. JD breathed out in relief as he got behind the drivers side and Veronica smoothed her dress down as she settled on the passenger side.</p><p>JD turned to her. “One thing before we go,” he told her.</p><p>“What?” She asked, unsure what he meant. He leaned over and planted one right on her.  When he released her, she beamed at him.</p><p>“I’ll probably end up saying this countless times tonight but I just really need you to know how pretty you look tonight.”</p><p>She smiled and got shy all of a sudden. “Thank you. You look…” She appraised him in the badly fitted black suit and tie. His hair was slightly gelled down and uncharacteristically— did he get it cut, like at a barber?— tidy. She loved it. “You look great,” she told him. She reached into her clutch and produced a tissue and her lipstick to reapply. She handed him the tissue. “That color doesn’t really work for you though,” she sniggered. Quickly he wiped it off his face and she pulled down the visor and used the mirror to reapply a coat to herself. “And I just want you to know one thing though,” she told him, her heart beating out of her chest.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“I’m so glad you and I are here, in our prom clothes, about to join our friends for this night. I love you. Every day after this is a gift,” she said to him, almost tearing up. “Oh my god, jeez,” she chuckled. “You give me a corsage and wear some fancy clothes and I just turn into a cheesy sap and tear up.” They both laughed and he started the car.</p><p>“Part of why I love you.” The tape in his car started playing— Violent Femmes, his favorite— and he tore out of her block. He slid into the school parking lot and they took in the kids around them also arriving in their finest. He looked over at her. “Last chance to be the cool kids who got all dressed up and ditched. I mean, your parents got their pictures so that’s taken care of and…” </p><p>Veronica pinched him, reminding him. “..and our friends are in there. And you promised me one dance in front of all our wonderful classmates.” He sighed.</p><p>“And I promised you one dance.” He opened his car door and she waited patiently inside. It was the only time in her life she ever wanted a boy to open a car door for her. He merely stared at her awkwardly unsure what was happening. She got a grumpy face and pointed at the door. Confused, he opened his and stared at her. “I have no idea what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Ugh,” she told him. “You’re supposed to open the door and help me out of the car.” He laughed and reached over her— it didn’t open from the outside— and ran over to the other side to take her hand and help her out.</p><p>“Thank you,” she told him in a clipped town.</p><p>“Well that was a fun trip back to the 50s,” he quipped. She took his arm and linked it with his. “Do you also want to not be able to open a line of credit? Hate the whole ordeal of voting?”</p><p>“Shut your mouth, feminism doesn’t mean we can’t indulge in politeness from time to time,” she teased back. She knew he knew that, they were just teasing one another because that was part and parcel of their language at that point. “You should feel special,” she told him with a sigh. “After all, I am putting out on prom night. How many other boys here tonight know that for sure?” </p><p>“What? So certain for yourself, huh? You think I’m that easy that I’ll go all the way with you tonight?” He told her as she pulled the tickets out of her purse and handed them to the poor president of their class on ticket duty checking to make sure no one snuck in without one. </p><p>When all was said and done they made their entrance to Westerberg High’s class of 1990 prom extravaganza with little to no fanfare. Veronica vaguely recognized the theme as “Midnight in Paris'' but for the most part the only thing one could tell of this “theme” was a vague paper mache Eiffel Tower which was leaning to the left precariously. Linda Owens— head of the prom committee— was feverishly trying to fix it and ignoring that her date— Louis Marchette— was completely flirting with Tory Frankel. The drama. And all because of a leaning paper mache Eiffel Tower. </p><p>The prom. The. Prom. Veronica and JD entered the gym at Westerberg in shock and awe. Oh they tried. The prom committee really did but... It really was just the high school’s gym trussed up with balloons and ribbon. “You know how much I hate gym class here?” JD asked her. The DJ they hired— DJ Jim available for all weddings and the three Bat or Bar Mitzvahs a year in Sherwood, Ohio— was playing a top 40 new wave song which was also gag-worthy.</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Yeah, ribbons and balloons do not make it any better.” She nudged him.</p><p>“You promised me a dance with minimal cynicism.”<br/>
<br/>
“I did.”</p><p>Heather McNamara was already camped out at a table on the side and was waving them over. She looked perfect in her yellow ruffled dress with a big fabric rose on the one sleeve. Kyle was sitting there in what appeared to be the suit his uncle died in eating what passed for hors d'oeuvres at the Westerberg prom. They made their way over.</p><p>Heather M and Veronica proceeded to squeal over how great the two of them looked, and JD sat down next to Kyle and he produced a plate filled with the very finest their HS cafeteria catering staff had to offer. He leaned over and whispered to him, “don’t worry, my brother hooked us up tonight. I got the pipe for later.” JD just laughed at the absurdity of it. It certainly was one way to get their whole value out of the prom ticket.</p><p>At one point Heather foisted her disposable camera at Kyle and he took a picture of her and Veronica all dressed up. He then took one of Veronica and JD and then after he had Veronica took a very sweet one of Heather kissing Kyle.</p><p>“Ugh, where the fuck is Martha?” Veronica asked, excitedly.</p><p>“She’s coming with Jeff, right?” Heather asked. Veronica nodded.</p><p>“She’d already agreed to come with him before she met that guy of hers. They’re going to meet up afterwards. You know her, she didn’t want to go back on the invitation and all that. By the way, I’m so glad you were able to track him down Kyle.” She told him, in between him taking a chip and souping it in the gloop of ranch he had on the disposable plate— one of the many— they were sharing before the “dinner” was served.</p><p>He shrugged. “Jo’s a good guy. Works a thousand jobs. I think my brother bartended with him for a hot minute. Besides, I’m always glad to help with the cupid stuff.” Heather kissed his cheek sweetly.</p><p>“You’re really the sweetest,” Heather told him. He started twittering awkwardly. Veronica inwardly chuckled. Veronica was well aware of what the two had done prior to showing up that night. Heather’s dad— ever the guilty and loaded divorced dad who had run off with the secretary as any— had bought her a Mercedes for her eighteenth the previous week. Heather had scoured tradition and swung by his place to pick him up for prom considering she had wheels and he didn’t. Kyle Miller’s v-card had been cashed in mere hours before and he was beaming with the freshness of it though trying desperately for the sake of public appearances not to talk about it non stop.</p><p>“He’s gonna meet up with her afterwards, I think. He said he’s coming to the lake with us, right?” Veronica explained.</p><p>“Yep. Oh my god. She showed me her pink dress the other day. Girl, it looked just like Molly Ringwald’s in <em> Pretty in Pink. </em>I can’t wait to see her,” Heather squealed. Then they both squealed. Over clothes. JD sensing this was not one of the moments that night he needed to be at the table leaned over to Kyle.</p><p>“You said you had a pipe?” JD asked Kyle.<br/>
<br/>
“Yup.” Kyle patted his suit jacket pocket.</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“Meet you around back in five.”</p><p>JD turned to Veronica. “I won’t be long.” She leaned over and kissed him.</p><p>“Only a little bit, promise?” The night was young and she wanted him kind of it with it for her dance. She’d indulge herself probably a bit later.<br/>
<br/>
“I swear.” he said, holding up three fingers. She laughed.</p><p>“That’s the Girl Scout salute, not the Boy Scout pledge.” He rolled his eyes at her and she pulled his head down to kiss him. When the boys left Heather and Veronica started gossiping about everyone who was there already, who was wearing what, who was with who, and who really wanted to be with who. They were mostly just waiting for Martha to show up already. When she did, it was like a movie. The glitter ball spun and the music played— “Hold Me Now” by The Thompson Twins was lightly playing over the speakers still at low as the DJ was getting set up— which was pretty gag-worthy but appealed to the crowd’s childhood nostalgia— right as her best friend since diapers entered the room. Jeff looked… well, awkward with Martha on his arm, but happy nonetheless. Martha though… she…</p><p>She looked like the prom queen. Sheathed in a pink ball gown that was long and with puffy sleeve caps she dragged Jeff by the arm as she rushed over to the table Heather and Veronica were frantically waving them over to.</p><p>“You look amazing!” Veronica cried out.</p><p>“Oh my god, so do you!” She told her. “And so do you!” She told Heather.</p><p>“Super sexy,” Heather told her. “And oh my god, your hair looks amazing permed like that. See? I told you.”</p><p>“Sorry we’re late but my mom took so many pictures. I think I confused my parents that the boy picking me up was a different boy than the one I’m dating.” She smiled to herself. “Dad said he can’t keep up with these boys.” She laughed at the stark change in herself in the last year before realizing it was just the girls at the table. “Speaking of, where are your boys?” She asked</p><p>“They’re out back… um, doing things,” Veronica said as she spotted a chaperone walking around. It took Martha a moment to realize it was drug related. Jeff, who’d remained awkwardly silent over the girl squealing, looked nervous and out of place. “Go join them,” Veronica told him so he could excuse himself from a bunch of girls.</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘doing things.’ I don’t understand what-” Veronica nudged him and put her finger up to her lips to signal quiet. She then leaned over and told him where they were and what they were doing.</p><p>“Oh,” he said, surprised. He thought about it for one moment. “I’ve never- you know what? Why not?” He shrugged and went out back to look for JD and Kyle.</p><p>“That necklace!” Martha squealed to Veronica and Heather gasped noticing. “Is that real?”</p><p>Veronica told the girls the story of him giving it to her, that it was his mom’s. Both their eyes went soft as they said in unison, “aw.”</p><p>At that moment the DJ started up. “Welcome class of 1990 to your prom!” There was a smattering of applause. “That’s the spirit! Dinner won’t be for a while so let’s work up an appetite on the dance floor!” He said undisturbed by the lack of participation. “Here’s an oldie but a goodie!” He put on Abba’s Dancing Queen. “Oh man, disco sucks!” Veronica laughed.</p><p>Martha looked aghast, “my audio recordings of us singing this song still exist Miss Too Cool for Disco.” They laughed, she was right and they both went out on the floor to indulge in some nostalgia of their own. After two more songs, the three of them realized their feet in their shoes hurt and they best take a break. They saw the boys sitting at the table and went to join them. All three were, well, in high spirits. Jeff in particular who began pouring the water into his own glass unfamiliar with the feeling of dry mouth he currently had.</p><p>“How much did he have?” Veronica asked JD quietly, as to not alert the admin of their behavior.</p><p>“He had one small one, then we laughed, explained he had to hold it in and he took another really big one to try and prove himself. He’ll be fine, probably more high on breaking the rules than anything else,” he laughed.</p><p>“I’m glad I’m driving my mom’s car,” Martha said, amused. “That’s all I’ll say.” A little while later they heard the call for dinner and went up to enjoy the finest cafeteria buffet their prom ticket could buy.</p><p>“You’re meeting Jo up after, right?” Veronica asked Martha.</p><p>“Yeah, he wants to take me to this bar where his friends are playing a show. He says no one will care that I'm not twenty one since I don’t drink anyway. I wanted to change before going but he insisted on seeing me in the prom finery,” she laughed. “He said he might wear his own jacket and tie leftover from his own prom to match. He’s really fun and goofy like that. Talks about trying to do stand-up, which he should, he tells great stories.” Veronica was more than happy for her and her joy was infectious. She slipped her arm through hers in solidarity. “He’s coming with us camping too which should be fun. Jeff’s going to watch the same band perform with his boy-” she caught herself quickly, realizing she didn’t want to spill his personal business without his permission. Veronica knew who he was meeting, as did JD, and now she realized Martha. But still. They weren’t sure if Heather or Kyle knew for certain and they were surrounded by the prying ears of the rest of Westerberg. It was a part of his identity to tell when he was ready. “I mean his friend. So I’ll give him a lift with us.” Veronica was happy to see that her and Jeff had become friends enough where he felt comfortable telling her the truth. “Want to come with us?” Martha asked.</p><p>“Oh, we’d love to but I think JD and I are just gonna head back to his place. We’ll meet you guys tomorrow to head up to the lake.”</p><p>“Oh, really?” Martha said, insinuating what the plan was. “Alone time?”</p><p>“Stop,” Veronica told her laughing. “Speaking of…?” Veronica asked, curious she hadn’t been given an update.</p><p>Martha cupped her mouth around Veronica’s ear and whispered, “second. Under.” She paused before adding, “and tonight I think maybe third but that’s it.” Veronica’s eyes widened.</p><p>“Look at you!” They got close and JD handed each of them paper plates. </p><p>“What are you gossiping about?” He asked. They both laughed and got their food before heading back to the table to sit and watch the few kids not eating dance and just genuinely joke around and have fun.</p><p>And then after dinner was over the dancing began in earnest. Mostly it was Martha, her, and Heather out there but occasionally she saw her friends and respective dates having their dances. The night was cheesy, the music lame, but it was fun none-the-less. Veronica had just come back inside after partaking a small bit of the pipe Kyle brought when she heard the DJ call out, “okay. In just forty-five minutes we’re going to announce the prom queen and king!” There was mild applause.</p><p>“Okay, JD, that is definitely our cue to leave,” she laughed as she reached for her purse. “I have no care in the world to watch them put a crown on Heather Duke’s head.” Heather Duke may not have been the ringleader or a willing participant in her drugging, but she had still reveled in those pictures and the mocking of her in them. </p><p>JD nodded and stood. As he did a slow song started playing, and he held his hand out to her. She looked at him aghast. They hadn’t danced together all night. “I promised you one.” Veronica was motionless, <em> really? </em> She thought. <em> This was happening? </em>She grinned like a Cheshire cat as she took his hand and he led her out on the dance floor amongst a few other couples who were slowly dancing. </p><p>He wrapped his arms around her waist and she threw hers around his neck and started swaying to Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.”</p><p>“I hate this song,” she whispered to him as she pressed against him and laid her head underneath his chin.</p><p>“I do too. You’re pretty though.” She sighed as his fingers gently touched her hair. “And I like you. A lot.” She giggled.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you. I like you too.”</p><p>One of the chaperones touched them to move apart. He snorted “I remember getting a lecture at a Catholic School in Illinois I went to about dancing too close with a girl. The boys were told they had to make sure there was always ‘enough room for the holy spirit’ between us.” Veronica died of laughter as she resumed her position with her head under his chin when said concerned chaperone turned around.</p><p>“Thank you for doing this, all of this.” she said looking up at him. “Really, I know the prom and all of this isn’t really your thing, but thank you for doing it for me.”</p><p>He sighed. “The things we do for love,” he replied grumpily but not really. He was having a good time with her, he realized begrudgingly. He gently moved that stubborn lock of hair from her eye and behind her ear and whispered into it, “by the way, I slipped the DJ five bucks.” The song ended and a giant grin appeared on his face as he waited for her to realize what that meant.</p><p>“You didn’t!” She squealed. He just grinned wide as the opening strains of “Prove My Love” by the Violent Femmes came on. “But how?! It’s the prom, by definition good music shouldn’t be playing!”</p><p>“It’s our song, remember?” <em> Our song. We officially have “a song.” </em>Her cheeks blazed though as she remembered what they were doing the first time they had listened to the song together-- but in a good way. Laughing they started twisting their bodies around to dance. She could already hear the complaining preps about the weird music playing but she ignored it as JD twirled her around, loving the hell out of it, singing along as loudly as she could.</p><p>“<em> Third verse same as the first </em>-” at that a chaperone had the DJ cut the song. One or two “awws” went out, but just as many claps.</p><p>“We expressly banned any songs with swearing in them, you kids know that.” </p><p>Veronica couldn’t even recall-- “I think they say shit, like, once,” she mused. They laughed and clutched each other, the moment was fun whilst it lasted at least. “All right, let’s get out of here.” It took Veronica a solid 30 minutes to say all of her goodbyes-- JD learned a valuable lesson in factoring this in next time they needed to leave somewhere-- and a couple more pictures before they skedaddled. They never did get to hear who was crowned Prom King and Queen.</p><p>JD and Veronica eventually found themselves in an empty parking lot of the grocery store near Kyle’s house. JD’s car was safely parked back in his spot at home and they had walked to the empty lot to be loud and have fun without worrying about waking his landlady up. He had a small portable radio on and he was still in his suit jacket, albeit his tie was gone and his shirt untucked. Veronica was eying him as it was a look she was particularly finding sexy at the moment. </p><p>It had gotten chillier and he gave Veronica his regular trench coat to wear. Her heels were safely put on the curb and she was in just her stockinged feet with her pretty blue dress still on. He was eyeing her too as the curls from her earlier ‘do fell from perfectly coiffed look and she had taken the clip out so it was loose around her shoulders. Seeing her like this, in his coat and slightly disheveled, it did powerful things to him he struggled to define. Somehow she was even prettier like this. They were passing a cheap bottle of booze back and forth to each other. He had managed to get the local liquor store to sell it to him but he hadn’t given much thought to the quality. His father rarely had. “Yuck,” she said after taking a shot. “That’s disgusting!”</p><p>“Best I could do,” he laughed, gagging at his next shot. “You stop noticing the more you have.”</p><p>She was already starting to get tipsy. His body ached remembering the night she had a few in her and broke into his bedroom back in September. His whole god damn life had changed after that. He couldn’t lie-- he liked Veronica a little drunk. She held nothing back. She turned to him with her hands in his coat’s pocket holding it out. “This thing is so long, how can you stand wearing it all the time?” He laughed.</p><p>“It’s only long on you because I have about a foot on you.” She ignored him.</p><p>“I am loving these pockets though,” she said stuffing her hands far down into his pockets. </p><p>“See? That’s what I’m saying! The pockets!” They laughed as he set up the bottles again for her to knock down. </p><p>“You could, like, keep snacks in here!” He laughed. “Seriously? Why don’t you always have snacks with pockets like this?” She ran around and managed to hit three out of the six. She cheered, it was her best hit so far. They passed the bottle back and forth again.</p><p>“Here, kill it,” he said, handing her the bottle with the last sip.</p><p>“Ever the gentleman!” She said, giggling as she drank the last bit. She bowed dramatically and with a squeal she tried to shoot the bottle into the garbage can a few feet away like a basketball. She missed. By a foot. It smashed loudly into a million pieces. “Oh fuck!” They both started laughing.</p><p>He walked over to her and slipped his hands inside his coat to bring her body flush against his. “You look really pretty in that dress tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you’ve told me.”</p><p>“So I did,” he whispered, kissing her.</p><p>“JD, I think I might be a little drunk,” she whispered to him. He laughed. </p><p>“Yes, baby, you are. Wanna know what though?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“I am a bit too,” they both laughed.</p><p>“Are you going to take advantage of me in this state?”</p><p>“Mmmm,” he murmured, moving down to kiss her neck. “Of course I am.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh thank god. It would be so embarrassing if I didn’t use that condom my mom gave me.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Later that evening… </em>
</p><p>“JD?” She asked. “Do you still have those handcuffs I left here after your birthday?"</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Graduation Day </em>
</p><p>Everyone was buzzing that afternoon as the seniors were eagerly awaiting their graduation exercises. Veronica was wearing a blue sundress, kitten heels, and the necklace her grandmother had given her for her birthday underneath her robes. Her hair was nicely and freshly cut and she already felt a thousand years older. She was looking around the similarly robed students for signs of her friends. Heather M finally broke from the sea of robes and ran up to her. “Oh my god, Veronica. So, word is Joey C is naked under his cap and gown.” Veronica laughed as she tried to spot him. He was standing over with some kids and wearing sunglasses. His legs were bare.</p><p>“He’s probably just wearing shorts,” Veronica said diplomatically. She kept glancing around the gym where they were corralled. She had been looking for JD since she’d arrived about ten minutes ago. He had been non-committal about the whole showing up for the ceremony and she had hoped in the end that she had convinced him to come. He may not have a parent out there watching but he had his friends after all. Martha was also suspiciously missing too.</p><p>Kyle ran up and wrapped his arms around Heather and she squealed happily. “So word is Joey-” </p><p>“Yeah, we know. And Veronica doesn’t buy it.” He leaned down to kiss Heather’s neck. She sighed and giggled. Since they had sealed the deal so to speak they had been a little more on the PDA side than they had before. According to Heather— who never knew a sexual detail too intimate not to share— she was really giving her boyfriend quite the catch up on experience and he was more than willing to try anything she wanted. Heather was making up for all the times she had given but never received, apparently. Veronica loved her dearly, but she didn’t need as many details as Heather M liked to give out. “Where’s Martha? And Jeff? And is your boyfriend really going to be all moody about not coming to the ceremony?”<br/>
<br/>
“Heather, come on,” Kyle said diplomatically. “It’s got to be weird to do something like this without your mom or dad here at all. Or any family really.” They all looked guilty. It was true. Heather and Kyle’s parents may have been broken up but they still had people out there. JD wouldn’t have anyone.</p><p>“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking,” she said, honestly empathetic to it. “Parents are weird. After all I’m a bit pissy that Debbie had to come with Daddy. Ugh. Seriously, you’d think she’d not want to come to a ceremony only five years removed from her own,” she said sourly. “Mom at least has the decency to not bring her support group boytoy dujour along. Although seeing Debbie I bet she wishes she had.”</p><p>“Hey, come on babe, stop fretting over it. Their thing is their thing. He wanted to come, right?” His own dad had said he was going to try and make it but to their knowledge it was just his mother and brother out there. She squeezed him to console. He hadn’t seen his dad since last summer anyway. He’d begun selling Amway and was trying to unload all the boxes of overpriced housewares he’d been conned into buying. He always claimed the newest get rich quick scheme was really going to work this time. Kyle was just surprised the phone number he had for him was still valid.</p><p>“Hey, the people who stick around are the ones that matter,” she told him kindly, showing off a Heather Mac who was more emotionally intelligent than Veronica had ever known her to be. Veronica smiled, loving seeing her being a more full and complete person.</p><p>“Look! Martha’s finally here,” Veronica said, feeling awkward that she had her nice, normal mom, dad, and grandmother sitting out there with little drama even though she knew none of them resented her for it.</p><p>Martha ran up to her practically bursting. She grabbed Veronica and cupped her mouth over her ear and feverishly whispered something causing Veronica’s eyes to widen like saucers. “Oh my god! You did?!” She nodded and hugged her. “I told you! I totally told you it would happen!”</p><p>“What?” Heather asked, her eyes slanted, not liking not knowing something. “Tell me! Tell me! Telmetellmetelmetellme!”</p><p>Martha ran up to her and whispered it in her ear as well. “Holy shit!” Heather said. “Tonight I require every single detail. Every. Single. One,” she commanded, emphasizing each word with her finger as she poked Martha’s shoulder. Martha was red with happiness and nodded.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Jeff asked, sliding up to them, his black and white Converses and jeans poking out underneath his gown. Kyle shrugged.</p><p>“I think this is girl stuff, I got nothing.”</p><p>“Shut up guys, let us have this,” Veronica said. She sighed happily. Last night Martha Dunstock— who would never be called “Martha DumpTruck” ever again in her life— had engaged in her first instance of sexual intercouse with her now official boyfriend, Jo. Veronica tried hard not to cry. It wasn’t the physical act that made it so important, but her giddy joy over the new confident woman she was that allowed herself to become something more than the gross labels her childhood peers stuck on her. It was the fact that Veronica’s best friend in all the world was such a new person, the one she deserved to be. The grown-up one that didn’t fixate on fantasies, accepted truths, and found happiness to blossom into a fully fledged human.</p><p>She reminded herself again that this all hadn’t just been about her and JD. It was about so many other people. It was about Heather Mac, Martha… and even people that she had no idea could be affected by her meddling in the timestream like Jeff and Kyle. It was her parents too. And as much as they had still managed to hurt her, she was glad Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney were alive. She hoped that their punishments were enough of a wake up call to become better people. In a different world— a different life— altogether JD had once told her that killing people was <em> their way. </em> He was wrong. <em> This </em>  was <em> their way. </em>She could hardly imagine the JD that was with her now ever saying that to her. </p><p>
  <em> It’s true: no one is damaged beyond repair. Even for Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney. I hope. </em>
</p><p>The three girls put their arms around each other and hugged. When they parted they heard Mr. Keene call out to the seniors that they had fifteen minutes before they had to line up. “Seriously,” Jeff asked Veronica. “Is JD really not gonna come?”</p><p>It cut through her giddiness a bit, she realized. As much as she understood his position on a ceremony not mattering and that— yes— he had the very real and unfortunate issue that absolutely no parent would stand and cheer when he got his name called she still wanted to share the accomplishment with him. It was a big deal for him, whether he understood it or not.</p><p>“He didn’t give me an answer either way. I mean if he- Agh!” She felt arms, long strong ones, encircle her from behind and a warm kiss nuzzle into her neck as someone rocked her back and forth. She laughed and sighed. “Oh, that better be you baby,” she said, bursting with joy that he had actually shown up.</p><p>“Hey, you all didn’t think I’d seriously not come?” He quipped as he let Veronica go, just holding on to her hand. He brought it to his lips to kiss their closed fists. She laughed, there he was in the same ugly red and yellow cap and gown the rest of them had on all set to engage in the pomp and circumstances.</p><p>“Wasn’t sure,” Kyle said, reaching over to slap his hand. JD did the same with Jeff. “We all know how Mr. Loner-too-cool-for-school you can be sometimes.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, please I am not some loner that thinks they’re too cool for school, I-”</p><p>“Yes, you are,” Veronica, Martha, Heather, Jeff, and Kyle all said at the same time. He bristled.</p><p>“Seriously? The first thing you said to me when I told you I didn’t catch your name was, ‘I didn’t throw it.’ You then insisted on buying me a Slurpee at 7/11 and saying stuff like, ‘greetings and salutations’ and ‘the extreme always makes an impression’” Veronica told him in her best imitation of him. “All with that smug smile of yours.” He shrugged.</p><p>“It worked, didn’t it?” he responded teasingly.</p><p>“I have never seen you wearing anything other than black and you even have those tough guy boots of yours on with your cap and gown,” Heather told him. </p><p>“I only own one other pair and they’re for running.”</p><p>“The coat,” Jeff added. </p><p>“It’s comfortable!” He responded, suddenly feeling attacked.</p><p>“The fight at the beginning of the year, the not talking to anyone until three weeks into the school year, talking back to teachers if you even talk at all, the book choices, the car, the-” Martha listed.</p><p>“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m a rebel and I’ll never ever be any good,” he replied sarcastically.</p><p>“Oh, by the way Joey C-” Jeff told him.</p><p>“Claims he’s gonna be naked under the gown. I know. I heard him brag about it in gym class three days ago. I’ll believe it when I see it,” JD said</p><p>“Okay everyone! Alphabetical by last name! I’ll start with Adams! Applewhite! Archer!” They all kept chit chatting until the first of their little group was called. “Dean! Duke! Dunstock!” He called out a little while after. Martha and JD eyed the lineup warily. Due to the nature of the alphabet they would be sitting through their graduation ceremony as the bread in a Heather Duke sandwich. A sandwich that held little appeal to either of them. Heather Duke didn’t look too thrilled about it either as she stood in between him.</p><p>“Mr. Keene. Courtney and I think the line order should reflect-”</p><p>“Don’t care Miss Duke, as far as the graduation line goes it is as non-negotiable as the alphabet. And as Jack Nicholson was once told, ‘Forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown.’” She huffed but got in line, clearly not understanding the joke.</p><p>A few moments later Mr. Keene called out, “McCartney! McNamara! Miller!” Ah, the alphabet once again. They were both glad they could sit next to one another. That left Jeff and Veronica as last though. Being a Sawyer her whole academic life she was used to being at the end of a roll call.  “...Ryan! And now the S’s: Sawyer! Selby! Sulzan!” Jeff and her took their places finally. She got on her tiptoes and tried to look over to JD and Martha and caught his eye. He gestured to the awkwardness of the person behind him— who was gabbing away with Courtney who was three people down from them over Martha as if she wasn’t there and he jokingly took a shotgun and mimicked shooting himself in an over the top manner. She laughed and realized she was so past the events of the first time of her life that she didn’t get disturbed by said actions, she merely laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.</p><p>“So, you’re parents letting you out of the cage for the party tonight?” She asked Jeff as they waited for the line to allow them to start walking. It was tradition at Westerberg that they all walked in a straight line from the gym to the football field outside. </p><p>“I’ll be there,” he told her. “And by ‘let me out’ you mean I informed them that as I am now eighteen they have no more power to force me to stay in or go to endless hours of church or bible study I get nothing out of? Then yes.” She tapped him happily on the back.</p><p>“Good on you! How’d they take it?” She asked worriedly.</p><p>“I…” He shook his head. “They’re such children. My mom started speaking in tongues and chanting. My dad grabbed the bible and started whispering on it. I told them to cut the theatrics. I love them, I do, and they can believe what they want to believe but… yeah. I’m done with that stuff.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did they say to that?” He shrugged.</p><p>“We haven’t really talked about it since. I don’t know. They’re here today. We’re having dinner after… and I’m going to the party. Tony’s gonna pick me up. I’ll see you guys there.”</p><p>“You told them about him?” She asked, in a low voice not to embarrass him.</p><p>“Baby steps,” he said honestly and equally as low. Going out with Tony had been good for him for many reasons, but one being that he was helping him realize there was no shame in liking guys but he was painfully aware of the culture around him. “I’ll just say he’s a friend for now,” he said, not liking that one bit. He couldn’t wait until he felt he was really ready to be open. “They have a lot of growing up to do first.” She smiled at him, happy for him. “By the way, I’m happy you guys are going to New York together.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too,” she said.</p><p>“Honestly, I was worried what he was going to do after graduation. If he’s with you I worry less.”</p><p>“You’re such a mom,” she joked and he laughed. Their tone was light but Veronica would always be glad JD and Jeff had become friends so organically. She had never needled JD on the how or why, but it really made her happy to see how much the friendship had benefited both of them.</p><p>“MIT’s not that far, so on the weekends you both should take the bus up or I can visit you down there,” he suggested casually.</p><p>“Oh my god, we should!” Their tale end of the line finally started moving and they made their way down to the football field. A sudden sense of ominous deja vu struck Veronica. In the first timeline the football field was unusable for the graduation ceremony. She darted her eyes back to JD as they continued to walk. She saw the back of his head walking and she relaxed. It was all different.</p><p>They sat down and so the graduation began. Anyone in the school that wanted to yammer at them in platitudes and vague future advice did.</p><p>“And your Valedictorian, Peter Dawson,” Mr. Gowan said. There was clapping— mostly from his family— as he took the stage. Veronica nudged Jeff and rolled her eyes. His smug “I got into Harvard and you didn’t” smile was on full display. Peter Dawson was an official member of the club of people that would never let you forget that they got into Harvard.</p><p>“How many GPA points did he beat you out to get Valedictorian?” Jeff asked, knowing it was still a smidge of a sore spot for her. </p><p><em> Point one. </em>“It doesn’t matter,” she told him, clearly not having let it go. Jeff laughed.</p><p>“Graduation Day. It means different things to different people,” he read off his paper. Literally everyone rolled their eyes. “To our faculty it means-”</p><p>“Wake me when it’s over baby,” Kyle whispered, leaning on Heather’s shoulder. She stifled her giggle.</p><p>“Who’s gonna wake me then?”</p><p>“To our parents, it means-” Peter droned.</p><p>“Is he seriously not gonna wrap this up in under five minutes?” JD asked over Heather Duke to Martha.</p><p>“I heard they asked him to cut five minutes of it when he submitted it for approval,” Martha drolled.</p><p>“Sh!” Heather Duke said, hating being talked over like that.</p><p>Eventually Peter ended— having not really said anything at all— and Gowan spoke. Veronica and JD glanced coldly at him, having not forgotten what he had said to her back in February at the meeting, and how he had dismissed Veronica. But eventually that was over and the first row got up and they began calling the names out and students walked across it and took their diplomas. “Ugh, it’s not even in there. It’s just a holder and inside says, ‘diploma upon review of grades.’ There are totally kids here that aren’t really getting diplomas,” Heather Duke said snidely behind JD. He rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his head.</p><p>“Calder, Joseph,” Principal Gowan said. Joey C rubbed his hands together ahead of JD.</p><p>“Wish me luck man,” he asked him, slapping JD’s chest. It was the most the two had spoken in the single year he’d been at Westerberg.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, good luck,” JD said as Joey made his way up, unsure what luck had to do with it. He walked up to the stage. They all heard his parents and little sister clapping. As he was about to take the diploma and shake Gowan’s hand he popped the snaps open on his gown to reveal-</p><p>Well, Veronica and JD stood corrected. He did in fact go commando under the robe. Gasps from the older attendees were heard, but more cheers and laughter in shock came from the students.</p><p>“Go Joey C!” A guy called out and there were some wolf whistles from the girls. Joey, for his part, ate up his second of notoriety for every beat it was worth before closing up and being pushed off the stage by the principal.</p><p>“You see me immediately after the ceremony,” Gowan told him. Joey laughed and buttoned up, leaving the stage. It was an empty threat, he had already graduated after all. “Continuing,” Gowan said, trying to resume the ceremony as normal. It wasn’t like he was the first kid to streak at a graduation ceremony since the 70s when it became a thing. “Chandler, Heather: Not present.” A ripple went through the crowd. </p><p>“Dean, Jason,” Gowan called next. Still laughing, JD walked up on stage. He wanted this over with, intending to quickly walk off, hoping no one would notice the lack of parental or family cheering and sit back down. He walked past the principal, purposefully in protest for the way he had spoken to Veronica but he doubted he had noticed. As he continued to walk he nearly had a heart attack. To his surprise he heard-</p><p>“Whew!” Followed by some loud clapping. He stopped just as he took the placard to find out where it was coming from. <em> He didn’t- Dad wouldn’t- </em> It had happened, his childish and absurd hope that his dad had sobered up, realized he needed help, and that his only son was accomplishing something had-</p><p>Not even remotely come true. Bud Dean wasn’t there of course. The adult cheers were from Veronica’s parents and her grandmother. They had stood and loudly clapped for him for both his own sake and knowing there wasn’t anyone else there to do it. The millisecond of childish disappointment that his father hadn’t been visited by three ghosts last night and showed the error of his ways to show up at the ceremony begging his son to forgive him disappeared pretty quickly. It had been a pretty childish and unreasonable hope. If it were Eight is Enough, The Walton's, or some TV movie on the Magical World of Disney he totally would have been there. Life was always a bit messier than a 22 minute sitcom or 45 minute drama trying to sell an image of a better life and Tide soap would have you believe.</p><p>It ended up not mattering to him. Replacing the disappointment was the sheer surprising warmth that Veronica’s Mother, Father, and Grandmother had gone out of their way to do that in the absence of his own dad. He was so stunned he had stopped in his tracks.</p><p>“Son, the next person needs to come up,” Mr. Keene told him. He had been standing next to the principal and noticed JD’s surprise at the adult cheers. Knowing some of JD’s familial circumstances he smiled for him, but JD muttered his apology, and shook his hand warmly before he walked down from the stage, quickly composing himself.</p><p>“Heather Duke!” Gowan called out. Veronica laughed, because really what else was there to do? Heather Duke walked on stage, waving to her adoring public as if it were the Academy Awards and not the Westerberg High 1990 graduation ceremony. She waved with one hand, took the diploma, turned to the crowd, posing for her parent’s picture after turning her tassel with a smile and a hand on her hip before walking off. </p><p>JD turned to her as she sat down and he looked at her and openly laughed. “Shut up, freak.”</p><p>He turned to her, amused by her attempt to insult. “Oh gosh, why weren’t we closer? I wish we had gotten to know each other better, you’re just really so sweet,” he mocked, echoing the common ridiculous thing seniors from different social groups often say to each other at graduation as their nostalgia began to set in— the reality fading away ever so subtly— over the entire experience of high school.</p><p>She laughed, despite herself. “I can’t believe Veronica Sawyer actually fucks you.” JD burst into laughter. </p><p>“And how.”</p><p>“Dunstock, Martha,” Gowan said. She waved enthusiastically at her mom, dad and her brothers-- the three of which were on chairs whistling-- as she did her walk. </p><p>She ended up plopping down in her seat. Ignoring the Duke in between them JD reached his palm out upturned to her from his seat and she slapped it and their fingers pulled apart with a snap, laughing. Martha caught herself for a moment and realized if you had asked her in September she never would have believed she would be friends with scary-guy-that-gets-into-fights Jason Dean.</p><p>The line progressed. “...Kelly, Kurt: not present…. Sweeney, Ram: not present,” he read when their names came up. A deep part of JD’s anger lingered, wishing they were in jail or at least denied the diploma entirely, not just the ability to walk at the ceremony but he knew that holding on to that anger too close would only hurt him and Veronica, so he made the choice than to move forward. “...McNamara, Heather,” Principal Gowan called.</p><p>Heather smiled as she looked out to the crowd, following the cheers and claps. Her mom and Dad were actually sitting together. They may not be happy about occupying the same space, but they were being civil for the ceremony. She waved happily. It was enough to ignore the obvious eye roll her mother gave Debbie who clapped like it was a tennis match and not her boyfriend’s daughter’s high school graduation.</p><p>“...Miller, Kyle.” Kyle jogged along to grab his own and had his own moment of shock. When he looked out to the audience he spotted his mom and his brother— who was dressed in his best jeans— and a third man. One that he almost didn’t recognize in a crumpled brown suit as it had been almost a year since he’d visited. His dad came after all. <em>He was always good at grand gestures, </em>Kyle reminded himself what his brother had once told him about their dad. He tried to keep the cynical side of him at bay though. He couldn’t wait until he could grab Heather’s hand and introduce her to the man as his girlfriend. He loved her for her, but there were times he had to admit he loved the image of having a hot cheerleader as a girlfriend to show off.</p><p>“...Ryan, Jeff, with honors,” finally came. He walked past the principal and smiled slightly. In her floral modest dress and his plain black and white suit— the same outfits they wore on Sundays when they proselytize— his folks were gently clapping for their son as he walked past the stage. They had decided to show up even after he told them he wasn’t into their church anymore. He didn’t doubt they’d ever stop “trying to save his soul” but maybe one day they’d understand more about his life. Maybe soon he could tell them the whole truth and have them not turn away. Still, moving to Boston wasn’t the worst plan he’d had especially when he was awarded the scholarship. He smiled as he sat back down in his seat, imagining his new life free from bible study and excessive prayer.</p><p>“Sawyer, Veronica. With Honors.” Veronica breathed in and out before she walked up on the stage. Her eyes immediately fell to her parents and grandma clapping furiously and she was so glad to see them so proud of her. She reminded herself to thank them for cheering for JD and took her diploma, but refused to shake Gowan’s hand just as her friend’s had. If he noticed her as well he didn’t show it. When they eventually all sat down, the principal finally said the words they had all been waiting for:<br/>
<br/>
“Congratulations to Westerberg High’s class of 1990.” The cheer went up as did the hats.</p><p>Laughter and tears followed as the whole thing became a mess of people looking for their friends and their family.</p><p>Martha spotted her parents and brothers and left JD pretty quickly. He smiled. Mr. and Mrs. Dunstock looked just as he imagined and he was mildly jealous of the three little brothers taking turns throwing their own hats. Around him he saw kids rushing to their folks, and pictures being taken. He stood around awkwardly, wondering when the earliest time to drop the robe off was so he didn’t get billed for losing it. He saw Heather Mac taking a snap with her mother and then her father’s girlfriend snapped one of her and her dad— he laughed as she drew the line of one with his insanely young girlfriend. Heather had not exaggerated the youth of said woman. She was only a few years older than Heather herself.</p><p>Kyle was ending a huge bear hug with his brother and a man— his father?— tentatively stood with them as their mother took the photo.</p><p>Jeff was with his own mother and father who were hugging him. Maybe he should just wait at the table to-</p><p>“Jason!” Mr. Sawyer called out. “We’re over here.” His arm was around his daughter and he squeezed her affectionately. Her mother and grandmother were with them and a camera dangled on her mother’s neck. “Come on. Let’s, uh, get one of you and Veronica together, yeah?” He smiled and walked over to them, unsure if he should thank them for their cheers earlier.</p><p>“It’s good to see you dear,” her grandmother said, gently hugging him to his surprise. “Congratulations.”</p><p>“Oh gosh yes, congratulations,” her mother told him as well as she gave him her own quick hug. Her father and him were not on hugging terms but he did take his arm from around Veronica and reached it out towards him and shook it firmly.</p><p>“Congratulations son,” he told JD. He smiled back at all of them.</p><p>“Um, thank you.” Veronica nearly cried right then and there seeing her dad greet her boyfriend so warmly. She leapt into JD’s arms and hugged him. He laughed and hugged her tight. </p><p>“We did it,” she told him, but not about graduation. </p><p>“Honey, you made the reservation at Manzee’s for five at four o’clock, right?” her mother double checked with her father. <em> Five? </em> JD wondered. <em> Her mother, her father, Veronica, her grandmother… five? </em></p><p>“Yes, the five of us at four. It’s all set.” <em> Oh. And me. </em>He blinked and turned to Veronica.</p><p>“You’re coming with us to eat, right?” She asked him. She hadn’t even though to ask him, she just assumed he’d be joining them. Veronica’s folks never really did think he wouldn’t show up.</p><p>“Of course,” JD told her as he put his arm around her and she put hers on his chest. They smiled as her mom pointed the camera. He was sure he was gonna come off weird. Their prom photo— though Veronica thought it was adorable— had been just a mess. She— naturally— had looked like a million bucks but he photographed terribly. </p><p>“Say cheese,” Mrs. Sawyer said and he was certain his eyes were closed. “Oh gosh, I’m gonna need one of you and Martha for sure,” she told them.</p><p>“We’ll head out to meet up with everyone else around eight, okay?” He kissed her forehead. There was some big party in the woods behind the middle school, they had all decided to attend for their last hurrah on graduation night.</p><p>“It’s a plan,” he agreed. They both took one last parting look at the football field and graduation setup before finding their friends, taking a few more snaps, and heading off to eat with her family.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Two Days Later… </em>
</p><p>“Well, look at you. A high school graduate,” Dr. Beckett told him as he shook his hand. It was his last appointment before he and Veronica left on their little post-graduation excursion and the doctor wanted to check in with JD and make sure he was in a good place before he did.</p><p>“More surprising things have happened I suppose,” JD quipped.</p><p>“What did we talk about with self-deprecating humor like that?” Dr. Beckett corrected.</p><p>“You’re right. Thank you.” the doctor nodded as they sat. JD paused. “No, really, thank you.”</p><p>“Oh? For what?”</p><p>“For everything. Talking to me, all the help this year. I- I never really knew how much I-” He cut himself off, suddenly shy over displaying emotion even though he’d done so in the past in front of him. “I don’t know what I could have been capable of if you didn’t-”</p><p>“That progress is on you. You changed you, I merely guided,” he told him truthfully. “And I’m glad and proud of all you accomplished.” JD smiled and nodded.</p><p>“Is it strange that at the graduation ceremony the other day I half hoped he’d show up? Like some miracle?” JD asked him, quietly. “After everything that he- I don’t know. It’s not like if he did show up I’d run up and hug him or anything. God, I feel like one of those dogs that gets beaten up by their owner only to never run away even if they get the chance.”</p><p>“It’s not,” he told him truthfully. “Strange. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s your dad, for better or worse. And in his own way he did care about you. It wasn’t healthy and you were absolutely right to get out of there but… you can’t magically turn off the feelings or the wish you had that he’d become the dad you needed. He’s a broken and sick man who needs his own help. Unless he gets it I’m not sure you’ll get that wish answered, but you aren’t wrong to wish for it. Wishing for it means you're human, that’s all. It might be best to focus on the relationships in your life that are healthy. Hearing that you have a strong connection to your girlfriend— and even her family— as well as the friendships you’ve made is something I’m really proud to hear. The way he moved you around never allowed you to form outside relationships. You may never be the social butterfly but hearing that you are capable of it is amazing. You really should be so proud.”</p><p>“I am. Thank you. I never thought I needed friends or anything but… yeah, they’ve been great. And I’ll never stop thanking whatever force brought Veronica to me,” he told him truthfully. “God, listen to me I sound like a friggin’ sap. Like a Kodak moment or a Hallmark commercial. Yuck.”</p><p>“Hey, we all get like that sometimes. If we didn’t those commercials wouldn’t work on us, right? Speaking of transitions, I know you’ll only be gone on this trip a few weeks but I want you to know you’re always welcome to call if anything happens. Anytime at all. Reverse the charges if you have to, it’s fine. I don’t expect you to need to but if you do.”</p><p>“Thanks. We’ll see I guess but yeah, things should be good. It’ll mostly be us driving and camping and stuff. But it’s good to know anyway.”</p><p>“I’m gonna make some calls while you're gone, try and get in touch with an old colleague in NY and see if we can get you square with someone to talk to when you move out in the fall. Hopefully we can find a comfortable fit that can offer you a sliding scale.” JD nodded, knowing it was inevitable. He wouldn’t be able to keep talking to the same therapist when he got to NY. He knew he’d have to get used to someone new eventually. </p><p>“Thanks. But I’m not sure anyone could ever be as helpful as you were.”</p><p>“I’m touched, really, but I’m sure the next person will be just as helpful. But don’t worry, if you don’t feel comfortable right away with them. After giving them a shot you can try another person. Sometimes it takes a minute to find someone you’re comfortable with.”</p><p>“Um, I know this might be off putting or awkward, but as far as payment goes. I know you were giving me a sliding scale and not to get too much into the weeds, but how does that work? I just got a check book from the bank with the money my mom left me. Veronica’s dad is trying to help me move it into a bank in state here or in New York so I don’t have to worry about out of state checks… he’s been nice helping me understand how all this works, it’s not something they really teach you in school stupidly and-”</p><p>“About that.” Dr. Beckett swallowed. “I’ve been struggling with how to tell you this and when. But since you brought it up I best just get it all out in the open.” JD blinked at him, worried.</p><p>“Is something wrong? I mean, I understand you need to get paid and I know you told me that it was sliding scale but if there’s maybe a payment plan or-”</p><p>“The bill has been taken care of,” he told him point blank.</p><p>“Huh?” JD responded, confused. “But, by who?”</p><p>Dr. Beckett sighed. “I got in touch with your father around the time you left him. Or rather, he got in touch with me.” JD swallowed, completely unsure where this was going.</p><p>“You never- I mean, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, feeling some odd feeling of anger and resentment bubble up. He tried to foist them down so that he could listen.</p><p>“He found the missing check,” he told him truthfully. “The one you tried to give me back in September when we first met.” JD’s mind started turning as his heart rate rose. He had no idea that had happened. <em> Since when did he start paying that much attention to his checkbook? Oh, yeah, without me there to take care of the bills. </em>No idea-</p><p>“What did- I mean, seeing as how I’m still here talking to you and you didn’t get into any trouble for seeing me before I was eighteen and-” JD controlled his breathing, unsure what to make of any of this.</p><p>“We merely discussed things rationally.” JD snorted.</p><p>“That would be a first for him,” he retorted with some bitterness in his voice.</p><p>“Let me finish.” JD got contrite.</p><p>“Sorry, go on.”</p><p>“I informed him I had been talking to you for a few months at that point and more than aware of the living arrangements, the alcohol abuse, and verbal and physical encounters he had had with his under age son. I informed him that seeing as how he wasn’t having any charges of neglect or abuse lobbed against him— and that I am a very well respected member of the community and have testified for many victims in the state of Ohio and now how to make such things happen— maybe he better listen for a moment to me.” JD nodded, trying to keep his bitterness, anger, and feelings neutral.</p><p>“Did he?” JD asked.</p><p>“He did,” Dr. Beckett told him. “That got him pretty quiet, truth be told. I may have exaggerated my ability to get the courts involved, but he didn’t seem to doubt me. I then told him, in accordance with my professional ethical duties to your privacy but also with obligation to your age and his parental status, what I felt he needed to hear about you. It wasn’t everything, don’t worry, I respect our relationship too much to betray too much of you to him,” he assured JD. “But some things needed to be said. Mostly in relation to your emotional state and anger and his role in it.” JD nodded. He had accepted the truth about who he was and what he was working towards addressing. “I do not know what he thought about any of this, as he didn’t say anything to me but he was informed. He thanked me for my time and told me that he wouldn’t be contacting me again.” Dr. Beckett shrugged. “It ended as quickly as it started. All of that is to say a week later my secretary opened the mail and he sent me a letter with his signature saying he gave consent for you to be my patient and a PO Box to send the bill to.” JD stared back unbelieving.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes. I can’t tell you what to make of that, but, it is what it is.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” JD asked him.</p><p>Beckett sighed. “I’m telling you now. I wanted to make sure you were in a place to hear it, and not immediately go to a place of extreme anger. You had only just left and only just told me about what had happened, the confrontation, all of it. And then what happened in February with the gun? I wanted to make sure you were ready to hear it, which I think you finally are now.” JD slowly nodded taking it all in. He wasn’t sure what to make of all of it. And though his initial reaction was anger and bitterness he could feel it slowly ebbing away.</p><p>“What else- I mean, did he say anything else? Did you say anything else to him?”</p><p>Dr. Beckett sighed. “I informed him of some groups he may want to think about joining. AA for one, some veteran support groups, some groups for people who have lost their spouses. I don’t- I don’t think he listened to me on that front.” JD concurred. “But if you’re wondering if he told me to say anything to you, I’m sorry to say he didn’t.”</p><p>“Yeah, that figures.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. “I think we may have to talk about this when I get back from my trip,” JD told him.</p><p>“We can. You and your father will always be the most complicated relationship in your life. You’ll probably always need to talk about it with someone.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He smiled, got up and went to his desk. “Let’s end this last session on a more hopeful and positive note, shall we? You’re about to take a great trip and this is for the two of you to take with you.” JD’s eyes bugged as he placed the moderate sized object on top of it. It was a camper stove. He had been eyeing some of them even before the trip was planned since he didn’t have a proper stove in his basement but they were a little too much price-wise to justify.</p><p>“Oh I can’t-”</p><p>“Think of it as a graduation present,” he said firmly. “Also, full disclosure, it is used. For Christmas my wife and kids got me a new one with more bells and whistles on it than probably necessary but this one still does the job well. I was going to sell it but I couldn’t imagine a better place to rehome it. This served me well in all our camping outings over the years, I’m sure it will for you two as well.” </p><p>JD was genuinely touched. “This is- wow. Thank you. I could really use it and- wow, just thank you. Really.”</p><p>“Besides, that tip your girlfriend gave me back in January paid out quite well. Thank her for me.” JD laughed. He had no idea how she knew the outcome of the Super Bowl, neither of them even followed football. “Send me a postcard from the Grand Canyon, yeah?”</p><p>“Definitely. Even if it’ll probably arrive after we get back.” They both laughed to break the mood. The gentle knock on the door occurred, to remind him that they should wrap up. Both of the men stood and JD slipped his coat on. </p><p>“Out of curiosity where would someone go to get a coat like that?” JD flicked his collar and stared at him like he was crazy.</p><p>“I don’t know, got it at some thrift store in Kansas about a year ago. Didn’t put a lot of thought into it. Why, you want one?” Dr. Beckett burst into laughter.</p><p>“Oh god, my kids would faint in embarrassment. I was just curious. Anyway,” he held his hand out and JD took it and they genuinely shook them. “Congratulations. Both for the high school diploma and the progress we made this year.”</p><p>“Thank you.” JD stood a little taller, taking in everything they had said this session.</p><p>“Have a good time and we’ll talk in person when you get back. Can’t wait to hear about your trip. Oh! And working at a summer camp. With children,” he emphasized. “You get you have to be nice to them, right?” JD snorted.</p><p>“That’s Veronica’s job. Mine’s to fix stuff and unlock the equipment closet near as I can tell.” The doctor laughed.</p><p>“Oh, this’ll be a fun summer,” he chuckled as they said their farewells. JD turned and left, knowing he had a lot to think about on the drive back to Sherwood that evening, but he didn’t stress too much on it, favoring instead to go over the plans for the trip. He and Veronica had an early start to make in the morning.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>The Next Day</em>
</p><p>“Okay, I want you kids to call every time you stop, okay? Reverse the charges even if you have to. Especially, if it’s an emergency,” Mr. Sawyer said, stressing. He had to be heavily convinced by both his wife and daughter to be all right with allowing her and her boyfriend to drive to Santa Monica for a graduation road trip the previous month when she had floated the idea. “Let” he knew wasn’t the right word. He understood he didn’t have control over her plans anymore, but Veronica told him she wanted his blessing all the same. Her birthday present had been his and Sylvia’s way of giving it to her. He knew how much it meant to her. </p><p>That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry. The idea of his daughter traveling by car— her boyfriend’s car at that— for that long <em> was </em> scary. But she was with Jason. And he had truly accepted him as a part of their lives and that she was safe with him.</p><p>“I promise dad. And we already have the camping grounds picked out and the couple of motels booked. We planned to a certain extent.” Not too much though, Veronica wanted some semblance of an impetuous adventure. “I told you, five days to drive there with stops going the southern route, five days back along the northern. We’ll stay in California for a few days. So we’ll only be gone about two weeks."</p><p>“I know, but trips like this…” They were big and winding and adventurous and… totally something every eighteen year old high school graduate deserves to do.</p><p>“Honestly, Mr. Sawyer I’ve driven from one end of the country to the other and back and forth since I was sixteen. I know the interstate highways and the safe places to stop. We’ll be fine,” he assured him. “And we’ll call every time we stop,” he added to alleviate his worry. In response Mr. Sawyer handed him a roll of quarters. </p><p>“Here, keep these so you always have them.” He took them and put them in his glove compartment. “And maps? I got out the atlas-”</p><p>“I’ve got the road atlas dad! Don’t worry.” She held it up and waved it at him. “We’re good. We promise.” Although the romantic in her hoped that maybe they’d get lost a little. Of course she’d never tell her worrying parents that.</p><p>Her mom helped her load a cooler into the back seat. “I made a bunch of sandwiches and other snacks for the trip as well as included extra so you can make them yourselves when you’re hungry. They should be good for at least a week if you make sure to stop for ice. I know it’s fun to stop for local food, but try not to eat too much fast food, okay? It adds up money-wise on top of not being very good for you,” she chided.</p><p>“Don’t worry mom. I’ve made him swear we won’t stop at 7/11 unless we need gas.” She smiled and hugged her mom, then dad. “We’ll be fine, thank you. JD said you can’t go to California and not eat In N Out though.” Her mother laughed. “And I promise we will not get into any feuds with deranged oil truckers that want us dead for no apparent reason.”</p><p>“Hey, speak for yourself,” JD quipped. Veronica hit him, realizing her parents didn’t appreciate those kinds of jokes.</p><p>“Take me all the pictures, okay?” Her mom said, handing her the camera. “I got you a bunch of rolls of film.” She handed her the bag for it and the film rolls.</p><p>“Of course. Thanks mom.” Veronica was surprised, she didn’t expect her mom to let her use her camera. She had planned to stop and get a disposable but she was elated to have a proper one.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Sawyer handed a card to JD. “Take this, it’s my Triple A roadside card. If there’s a problem with the car, call them. I can wire you both the money if you need it too. I don’t want you both trapped somewhere in the middle of nowhere with an overheated engine or anything.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he told him, appreciating it. “I got her checked out last week. I think she’ll be fine,” he said, referring to his car with affection. Mr. Sawyer was understandably skeptical. </p><p>“Come on honey,” Mrs. Sawyer told her husband. “Say goodbye and let’s let them get started on their adventure. Everybody should drive to California at least once in their life.”</p><p>“I’ve done it three times,” JD quipped. Without even realizing it was happening her mother pulled him into a hug too.</p><p>“Take care of her and yourself, okay?” Her mom told him.</p><p>“Um, yeah, I will,” he said, accepting the hug.</p><p>“Same,” Mr. Sawyer told them. “And have fun,” he said after Veronica let him go. He and JD still weren’t on hugging terms but he reached his hand out and JD accepted it as well. </p><p>“Thanks. I promise we’ll call if there’s a problem,” he assured him.</p><p>He and Veronica got in the car and waved goodbye to her parents as they drove out to the metaphorical sunset— it was 7 AM in actuality— that was leaving Sherwood.</p><p>She looked over at him and smiled. “I can’t believe it. I packed a bag and you’re really taking me to the ocean.”</p><p>“I promised, didn’t I?” She laughed and he took her hand, bringing it up to kiss it as they made their way on to the parkway and eventually to the interstate highway entrance. </p><p>“I know you’ve done this trek before but I’m glad you agreed anyway.” He shrugged.</p><p>“That was different. Never stopped whenever we drove from place to place. We always took the main interstate. And I never saw it with you,” he told her. She felt pretty pleased with herself at that admission. “Oh, you’re in charge of the tunes for the first stretch, remember?” She nodded. She grabbed a tape out from the approved road trip tape box they had put together the other night and slid the first one in.</p><p><em> In the day, we sweat it out on the streets<br/>
</em> <em> Of a runaway American dream<br/>
</em> <em> At night, we ride through mansions of glory<br/>
</em> <em> In suicide machines </em></p><p>He turned to her and smiled a brilliant smile, one that lit up her heart at how genuine and happy it was. She returned it. The road ahead of them was uncharted and mysterious.</p><p><em> Sprung from cages out on Highway 9<br/>
</em> <em> Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' out over the line<br/>
</em> <em> Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back<br/>
</em> <em> It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap<br/>
</em> <em> We gotta get out while we're young<br/>
</em> <em> `Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run<br/>
</em> <em> Yes, girl, we were </em></p><p>In her heart Veronica wondered when she’d stop remembering the first time around, if ever. When would it become a bad dream? Maybe it’s good that it will never be wiped from her memory. She thought about Heather Chandler, Ram, and Kurt and how they’d never really understand the gifts they were all given. Hell, even Bud Dean would never understand the gift they gave him. But Veronica would. She’d cherish it her whole life.  She would probably never understand why they got this, when many others never could but she didn’t want to examine it too closely, lest it all wash away.</p><p><em> Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend<br/>
</em> <em> I want to guard your dreams and visions<br/>
</em> <em> Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims<br/>
</em> <em> And strap your hands across my engines<br/>
</em> <em> Together we could break this trap<br/>
</em> <em> We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back<br/>
</em> <em> Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire?<br/>
</em> <em> `Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider<br/>
</em> <em> But I gotta know how it feels<br/>
</em> <em> I want to know if love is wild, babe<br/>
</em> <em> I want to know if love is real<br/>
</em> <em> Oh, can you show me? </em></p><p>For the first time in her young life she looked forward to the future with wild abandon. She had made a new path for herself, as well as the people she loved the most. Something told her she and JD may be stuck together for a long time. That felt right, for the most part.</p><p><em> Beyond the palace, hemi-powered drones<br/>
</em> <em> Scream down the boulevard<br/>
</em> <em> The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors<br/>
</em> <em> And the boys try to look so hard<br/>
</em> <em> The amusement park rises bold and stark<br/>
</em> <em> Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist<br/>
</em> <em> I wanna die with you, Wendy, on the streets tonight<br/>
</em> <em> In an everlasting kiss </em></p><p>She slipped her sandals off and leaned back in the car, using the crank to lower the seat and lifted her feet on the dashboard to lean back. She began organizing the maps. JD was doing the driving for most part so she was navigating. He claimed he knew most of the interstate highway system but she had a few detours labeled off she wanted to check out.</p><p>She was insisting on seeing the largest ball of twine.</p><p>This would definitely be a different trip than he was used to. Travelling with his dad whenever they moved was always long and boring. He was more interested in making good time. He had to practically beg him for bathroom breaks and food was mostly procured at rest stops when he stopped to fill up the gas tank. He had a distinct feeling Veronica was not the type who never wanted to stop.</p><p>Veronica rolled the window down and felt the wind rush past her. She slid her sunglasses on and glanced at the love of her life awkwardly taking his black coat off and put his own sunglasses on to protect from the early morning glare. On his feet were the black sneakers she’d talked him into buying so that he’d have an option of another pair of shoes. She thought about the swim trunks-- granted black ones-- and beach shoes she’d insisted he get and pack for the trip so that when they stopped at any motel he could swim with her in the pool. Also, she told him he’d look ridiculous on the Santa Monica Pier in June in his usual look. She did make plenty of implications that if any water they camped out at was other people free and reasonably warm she wouldn’t be opposed to some skinny dipping.</p><p><em> (1, 2, 3, 4) The highways jammed with broken heroes<br/>
</em> <em> On a last chance power drive<br/>
</em> <em> Everybody's out on the run tonight<br/>
</em> <em> But there's no place left to hide<br/>
</em> <em> Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness<br/>
</em> <em> I'll love you with all the madness in my soul<br/>
</em> <em> Oh, someday girl, I don't know when<br/>
</em> <em> We're gonna get to that place<br/>
</em> <em> Where we really want to go, and we'll walk in the sun<br/>
</em> <em> But till then, tramps like us<br/>
</em> <em> Baby, we were born to run </em></p><p>She thanked every star in the heaven that aligned for this ending, this perfect hopeful ending that had her and JD riding off into the sunrise of their new life.</p><p><em> Oh honey, tramps like us<br/>
</em> <em> Baby, we were born to run\<br/>
</em> <em> Come on with me, tramps like us<br/>
</em> <em> Baby, we were born to run </em></p><p>-Bruce Springsteen (Born to Run)</p>
<hr/><p>“Babe? Can we change the tape? Put the Violent Femmes in next?”<br/>
<br/>
“Un-unh! My choices for the first two hours, we agreed! We made a schedule, need I remind you?”</p><p>“Oh come on,” he bickered back. “I had no idea when I first met you you were such a Springsteen fan. That’s misrepresentation.” She laughed as they began the fight for music control. </p><p>He, of course, eventually let her win. </p><p>Veronica had long since chosen her favorite picture of the two of them from the trip. It was the two of them in front of the roller coaster at the Santa Monica Pier, the glittering pacific ocean in the background. In it, they are smiling, a leftover Slurpee in his hand, and a Diet Coke Big Gulp in hers. On the back Veronica had scrawled, <em> “JD/Veronica. Senior road trip 1990!” </em>It sat in their apartment as of 2005. It was slightly hidden now, in the back of their mantle with the other family photos. Although, as truth would have it, it was really only hidden owing to the family photos of their college graduations, wedding, and the two of them and their nine year old son and two year old daughter. They had gone to the beach that day, and the four of them were clutching each other wet and full of sand on the shores of the Rockaways.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Up next is an epilogue. It's aprox 60 pages at this point and with further polishing looking to be more. Should I post it all or cut that up in two chapters? Let me know in the comments and whatever the majority opinion is will win. I'll try and post the next chapter of Hot Rails to Hell since that's been so neglected for so long before the epilogue. Also, in the comments from last chapter I was asked about one more moment with Heather C. It's still coming.</p><p>Also, *blush* I wrote the E rated prom night which will get posted under the explicit tag in a separate story within the series header.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Photographs on the Table or Pearls on a String (Epilogue)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we look at some photographs on a table, come to terms with a past ghost, move forward, and face the future. The ending isn't always the end.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So here we are. Nearly a year after posting chapter 1, the little one shot that launched it all, and here's the 20K word epilogue. The last chapter of the main story.</p><p>In case you were just following this story I *highly* recommend reading some of the side stories as some stuff is better explained. Particularly "Homeward Bound" because it serves as really a bridge between chapter 29 and 30.</p><p>Before we start though I want to thank everyone. EVERYONE who even vaguely glanced at this story. Seriously, THANK YOU.</p><p>And now, "it's time to play the music, it's time to light the lights..." as The Muppets have said. I hope this satisfies most, if not all the readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>February, 1972 <br/>
</b> <b>Texas</b></p><p><em> It was chilly outside and a rain was misting. Valerie Dean— née Morgenstern was in her hospital bed staring into the eyes of the tiniest and most precious thing she had ever seen: her son. He squirmed and whimpered in her arms, exhausted. “Oh baby, I know. It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?” She smiled as she shifted him a bit. Jason. They had settled on Jason Dean. She heard the knock on her doorway and looked up. Her husband smiled down at her looking like he ran a marathon to get there. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> “Sorry, I got here from work as soon as they gave me the message. I was on a demo site and didn’t get it until-” </em></p><p>
  <em> “It’s okay,” she told him truthfully. She hadn’t been raised to expect the father anywhere near the delivery room even though they said he could if he wanted to. “You’re here now.” He grabbed the chair on the other side of the room and pulled up next to her and his son. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His son.  </em>
</p><p><em> “He’s been waiting for you. Told me so.” He laughed as he gazed down at the two of them, the most beautiful image he could never have imagined. She mimicked leaning into the baby and nodding as if he was talking to him. “What’s that? Hi daddy? He says hello.” He laughed. </em>Dad. Someone’s calling me dad now.</p><p>
  <em> “It was fine? You’re fine? You’re both-?” He asked worriedly. She smiled, touched by his concern.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We’re fine,” she told him calmly. “Yes, all fine now. Just waiting for you.” He laughed. He reached into his coat pocket and showed her a box. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s that?” She asked, surprised.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “For you.” He opened the box and she stared at them incredulously. “I’ve been waiting to give these to you.” She looked at them curiously. They were the loveliest pair she’d ever seen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh Bud, they’re beautiful but you didn’t have to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I wanted to,” he told her. “You’re now the mother of my son on top of being my wife.” He put the box down on her side table. He scooched closer to the two of them. He reached out and ran his hand down her hair, gently moving it from her face. He stared down at the tiny infant in her arms, struggling with the ordeal of opening and closing his eyes. “I know it feels a bit rushed. All of this between us but-” He smiled at the bundle of blankets in her arms and carefully moved the coverings so he could touch the baby. His son. “I love you two. I really do.” She smiled at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "I won’t lie to you, this isn’t what I had planned,” she told him, with a small rueful laugh.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know. And I just want you to know I’ll always provide for you, for him. That’s the promise I’m making to you.” She smiled at him, that beautiful one that lit her whole face up.  </em>
</p><p><em> “You will, won’t you?” She believed him. She believed him fully. She really believed he’d keep that promise to her. For that solid moment in her life all she could think was, </em> Yeah, this’ll work. It wasn’t the plan but this will work out. <em> “I love you too. No matter what else happens… This is one of the happiest moments of my life.” He smiled at her, then down at his son. Tears pricked her eyes. “The pearls are lovely, and I’ll treasure them. But this,” she referred to the baby in her arms. “This is the best gift you could ever give me.” He swallowed, enjoying the moment. She laughed at her own melodrama and intense emotions. “Oh gosh, I’m just being- Oh gosh, you haven’t- Do you want to hold your son?” She asked, excited.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Bud’s eyes went wide. He had precious little experience holding a baby. She smiled though and walked him through it. “It’s okay, just hold his head. He’s not made of glass.” She transferred the bundle over to him and he managed to smile in awe at his child. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, hey there little guy,” he told the squirming bundle. He moved the blanket and looked at the hands, then the feet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ten fingers, ten toes. Don’t worry.” She yawned, patting his arm assuring. She suddenly laid sleepy and laid down watching both of them in serenity. “I need to take a nap. Introduce yourself. Get to know each other,” she told him. “Mingle. You have a lot to talk about. He’s your son after all.” Her eyes closed and drifted off. “Jason,” she mumbled as sleep claimed her. The fear, the uncertainty, and the drastic change in her living location, lifestyle, and goals for life had changed so much in just one year but right at that moment with her husband and son it felt right. At that moment in time they were a real family.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nice to meet you Jason,” he told the baby in his arms. “Hey, don’t worry. I promise I will take care of you. You and that pretty mother of yours. My son.” In that one moment he meant it, really meant it. In just that one moment of newness with his wife and son nothing could ever possibly sour or go wrong.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was the happiest moment of him and his son’s entire relationship. It was almost too bad Jason Dean had chosen that moment to close his own eyes and fall to sleep. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, New York</b></p><p>JD looked down at his watch. “Fuck,” he whispered. He was running late. The game was already about half over by now. He hadn’t been able to get out of working that Saturday but he had at least been able to leave at a reasonable hour. He just had to make a pit stop at home to drop some paperwork and plans off before heading to the park. His son, Dylan, was a third baseman. He knew Veronica was already there with their toddler, Valerie, but she’d been on toddler duty all day and he knew she could use a break. He tried as hard as he could to make sure their parental responsibility was evenly burdened. But, to be fair, he honestly loved his wife and kids and wanted to be with them as much as possible. He hated missing baseball games and watching his toddler pull grass out of the ground.</p><p>He was currently working on a project for the city though. He had been doing more advanced work since he finished up a graduate masters in structural engineering and mechanics last year— his son was floored that he voluntarily decided to go back to school— and there was a lot of city bureaucracy and cash flow issues to his project but when he was out there with the machines and the sparks flying making last minute assessments and calculations he felt in his element.</p><p>He was doing what he was good at— building things, creating them. It wasn’t just something he was good at though. He actually liked doing it.</p><p>It didn’t hurt also that the decent salary and city benefit package offered was a nice bonus to a man with a family. He was earning a very good pension that matured when he was 60 and the health insurance for him and his family was important. He was in his 30’s now, and these things were suddenly very important. </p><p>Veronica was on her sabbatical at the moment from teaching psychology at Hunter College and currently working on a book and taking patients on a case to case basis two days a week. She had finished up her clinical psychology doctorate in ‘99 and was now a licensed psychologist. She liked helping people work past the trauma and get better. </p><p>“You’re good at that,” he told her once when she told him what kind of therapy she wanted to practice and the kind of patients she wanted to see. “I was broken once. You definitely fixed me.” She shook her head.</p><p>“I made an appointment for you. You fixed yourself. You did the work,” she would always counter him with. He wasn’t quite sure, but he thought perhaps they both were damaged in some way, and that they fixed each other.</p><p>Speaking of, he still went about once every other week to talk to someone, realizing that it was still a useful tool for working out a lot of his pain and anger, especially in making sure he didn’t pass that trauma down to his own kids. Mental health is a lifetime project and he knew that abuse and neglect can be inherited as well as one’s bone structure, propensity to alcoholism, and heart disease. </p><p>But really, Veronica and JD both had their hands full with a nine year old and a two year old in their apartment they’d been living in together since they were 21. The same one his aunt offered to him to live in when they reconnected when he was nineteen.</p><p>It was a unit in the small four unit, two floor house JD’s grandparents had left to his aunt and mother— and now him by proxy— that he had lovingly and painstakingly cleaned, fixed, and redid with his own two hands and recently did a small renovation on to turn the bigger room into two small rooms for the kids so they could each have a small space separate from the other. He had put his heart and soul into renovating and fixing that home for the two of them and they both knew they were going to be there for a long time together.</p><p>Veronica had been naturally nervous at first to move in with him. At the time they had really only been going out for a year at that point, and barely eighteen years old. Moving in was a big commitment and she wanted to gain some experience living on her own first. All told though, it had taken three years of dorm living for Veronica to be sick of it and ready for herself to commit by moving in with him. By then he had made the space special. He went with her back to Sherwood that summer with a rented van— his beat up car still in somewhat commission but not big enough to get the job done— to collect the rest of her things and gain some furniture from her old room and her grandmother— who had finally acquiesced to her son and daughter-in-law’s pleading and sold her old house and moved in with her parents.</p>
<hr/><p><b>June, 1993<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>
  <em> “Seriously, Veronica, this dresser with the exclamation mark, question mark, and comma was absolutely necessary to drag all the way to New York with you?” He groaned as he huffed it up the stairs. Aunt Phyll was on “watch the truck so no one steals the stuff as they moved it'' duty owing to a bad back. JD had essentially taken the duty to do this as quickly as possible upon arriving back from Ohio with the bulk of her stuff and the stuff her family had donated to them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s not that he wasn’t grateful— other than an old couch he’d found on the curb, a bed from the basement of the unit leftover from a previous tenant, and shelving he’d made in a woodworking class he’d taken, the place may have been fixed up but it was pretty sparsely “decorated” as it were— but it didn’t make her stuff any lighter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That dresser is a classic! You can not rebuy that anywhere!” Veronica shouted back as she grabbed the next box.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m in love with it!” Aunt Phyll said cooing over it. “Now that you’re here I’m getting you two plants. That’s it. Plants for the place. How do you feel about hanging plants? Maybe cajole him into putting a nice little herb garden on the terrace? Fresh herbs. That’s the secret. Fresh herbs.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Aw, thank you,” Veronica gushed. They had become fast friends since JD had reconnected with the woman and had developed quite a rapport. Which was great JD felt, when they weren’t trying to move. “Plants would add so much atmosphere to-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Veronica!” JD called trying desperately to wedge something in the door to keep it open as they moved her things inside. “We have to get the van back by four or they charge for an extra day!” He hated having to spend money to do that but it worked out financially though as the van rental was cheaper than buying new stuff. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop yelling!” She told him. “I’m going as fast as I can!” He groaned as he watched her carry one small box up from the van in the time frame he carried two. She always forgot how much better at moving he was than she was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Despite the stress they managed to get the van back in time and even began unpacking and arranging things as soon as they got back to the apartment. </em>
</p><p><em> That night though, surrounded by the rest of her unpacked stuff they were just too tired to get to that night, they had snuggled into their— their!— bed together, all of the stress of moving long behind them. She was wearing her pj’s and laying in his arms as they watched </em> Murder She Wrote <em> on his cheap used tv set— at least it was a color set— the antennas skewed in a good direction to pick up the broadcast signal to max capacity. </em></p><p>
  <em> She sighed melodramatically at JD’s assertion of his prediction of who the killer was this time in Cabot Cove, Maine. “God damnit JD. I keep telling you, she’s not the murderer! No episode will ever end with Jessica Fletcher confessing to the crime.” JD only watched the show because he was convinced she was secretly a serial killer— though she suspected he really just liked Angela Lansbury— as he put it: “Veronica, come on, no one has that many murders happen to her and not start to question her own involvement. And isn’t it convenient that there’s always a murder for her to ‘solve’ when she’s got a new book out and is on tour?” Veronica shook her head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is why we are never moving to Maine. Between Cabot Cove and Castle Rock I just don’t think we’ll ever make it out alive.” She eyed him, realizing this night was special. Their first night in their own place, together. Not a sleepover, she wasn[t heading back to her own place after breakfast in the morning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She lived here with him. She looked over to the unpacked boxes and mess of Thai food takeout packages they had devoured and their cozy position in bed. It was exactly where they were supposed to be. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Baby, we are 21 years old. There is no reason on earth either of us should be watching CBS. Turn it to five. I want to watch Married With Children and that new George Carlin sitcom.” He sighed, not wanting to get up from their comfortable position but did so anyway to flip the channel. She smiled at him as he got back into bed and she resumed her snuggle position. “Best remote control ever,” she told him. He grumbled but relented. A commercial was on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want to put new curtains up, is that okay?” She asked. Currently the “curtains” were old towels that served more or less to keep the neighbors from looking in than to make the place look nice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whatever you want to do,” he told her without thinking. It didn’t take too long for him to start seeing this place as “their” home and not “his” home. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>It was a bit small for the four of them— and others had tentatively broached to them they should think about the suburbs— but they didn’t want to leave. It was home and before that it had been his mother’s home. His Aunt still lived in the unit next door and he was completely comfortable in it. Not just the apartment but in the neighborhood too. Home. He had spent his entire young life bouncing around the country with his father’s inability to stay put for so long the idea of staying still was amazing and this was the longest he’d ever spent in one place since his mother died. Veronica loved it too. He told her explicitly to say something to him if she ever wanted to move but she never had. He knew she saw this as “home” as well. And in the end, to him, wherever she was was “home” really.</p><p><em> Focus, drop the paperwork off, change into the sneakers, get your Met’s cap, and run to the park. You don’t want to miss anymore of the game, </em>he told himself as he flummoxed through a beat up work bag for his keys to get into the main door. He felt the buzz from his flip phone in his pocket. Neither of them had wanted one of these stupid things but he needed it for work. It was hard to reach him often when he was on site. And four years ago in September Veronica had had a panic attack when she had taken a day off to deal with their sick five year old and didn’t know if he was okay. She only vaguely knew he was at a job site in lower Manhattan that morning a plane had purposefully crashed into the Twin Towers. After his two hour walk home— safe, thank god— they had agreed to get them and make sure they checked in on each other if the other was late for any reason.</p><p>He opened the phone and adjusted his eyes to the tiny screen— Veronica kept harping to get his eyes checked for reading glasses— and saw the jaggedly worded message on the screen from Veronica:</p><p>
  <b>where r u? game almost over</b>
</p><p>And then there was another one.</p><p>
  <b>train stuck? Not like u to be this late u ok?</b>
</p><p>He sighed spent a minute scrolling the abc1 and def2 button system to plunk out: </p><p>
  <b>was stuck at work w/ no reception running late b there soon </b>
</p><p>As he approached the door he looked up he stopped dead in his tracks, as he hit send. Waiting outside his apartment door was a blast from the coldest part of his past.</p><p>His father. It took him a solid moment to really recognize Big Bud Dean in the flesh to be honest. It had been fifteen years since he’d seen his old man and time was not overly kind to him. In fact, he looked like shit. The beer belly he had begun when he last saw his son fifteen years ago had swelled even more, his hair was almost all gone now, and his face had visibly aged. There was still the resemblance between the two, but where JD was a fairly in shape thirty-three year old man still in his prime— with all of his dark hair, minus a few gray strands— Bud had sharply declined. It wasn’t just age, his face and body just all looked… tired.</p><p>JD didn’t really know how to react to this insane surprise. “How did you find me?” Was all he could honestly think to ask as he opened his main door, suddenly on edge, putting his phone in his pants pocket. Seconds ago he was more stressed that he was letting his son down by not being at his baseball game, and now… here was a man that had never concerned himself over seeing his own son’s baseball games.</p><p>“This was your mother’s house. I know she made sure her sister was left her share of the property before she kil- before she died,” he corrected himself. “Um, I figured if you’d moved to New York you probably got in touch with her. She wasn’t always the most together woman but- well, she loved your mother so I figured she’d help you out.” Bud’s hands were shaking. He was sober at least though. JD wondered if the tremor was from nerves or delirium tremens, or hell, both.</p><p>“You just assumed I’d be in New York?” He asked as he made his way inside the house. He walked up to the top floor and his father awkwardly followed behind him, unsure if he was being invited in but JD didn’t stop him so he continued on. “You do recall it was Ohio you left me behind in, right?”</p><p>“Um, I knew you’d moved to New York at least ten years ago. You started working for Sy Edelman, right? His company?” It had been his first job— well, “grown-up” one as Veronica called them— he’d gotten before his last year of school began.</p><p>“I had no idea you knew Sy,” JD admitted truthfully. If he’d know that he wasn’t so sure if he would have taken the job. Though in truth it had been a good experience and the man was okay to work for. Knowing he knew his dad gave him the willies though. It really could be a small world.</p><p>“We, um, we came up in the army corp together,” he explained. <em> That makes sense, </em>he realized. He remembered Sy mentioning his army training and tour of Vietnam but never put two and two together that they may have known each other. “When he met you and recognized the name and that you looked a lot like me at that age he gave me a ring. I told him you were my son. Told him that we didn’t talk much but, if you needed a job…” Bud shrugged. “You worked hard.” JD stiffened.</p><p>“I thought I got that on my own,” he said defensively. He remembered how happy and proud he was to quit the job serving— he had indeed been promoted after one year of busing— at Planet Hollywood to go to a good grown-up job with reasonable pay and benefits. Oh the luxurious health insurance.</p><p>Veronica was only beginning her doctoral work and though she had a stipend and worked part-time as a receptionist his benefit package allowed him to ask her to marry him. It really came in handy when their son surprised them by coming along a year into their marriage.</p><p>“You did! No, not like that. I just-” JD waved him away. It didn’t matter. He proved himself at work on his own. He finished his degree without his dad and got a better gig after too. When he decided to do a master’s degree he’d earned it without his help. Nepotism or what little a, “yeah, he’s my son,” had gotten him didn’t underscore his talent and accomplishment. If anyone had supported him it had been his wife. She’d been his rock for his entire adult life.</p><p>That therapy he had gone to had really helped in easing much of his anger and resentment at his father after all. He didn’t allow himself to dwell or fester in it.</p><p>JD opened the door to his unit and against his better judgement did not slam it shut in his father’s face. “Oh, you have the unit your mother grew up in,” he noted. JD crossed his arms and looked down, unsure what the hell was going on. Bud was having his own surreal experience too. After all, the last time he’d been in that unit was during one of the many uncomfortable visits to his former wife’s family in the 70s. </p><p>He remembered it clearly. Thirty years ago in fact.</p>
<hr/><p><b>June, 1975<br/>
</b> <b>Queens</b></p><p>
  <em> Bud was antsy and fuming. Val’s father had said something snide— he couldn’t remember what exactly, but it was always snide with the two of them— as toddler Jason was playing on the carpet with Val and her mother stacking his blocks like he always liked. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door just leaving them. He remembered his son’s tears as he left. He had accidentally brushed past them and knocked his tower over. It caused the toddler to cry and Val to get annoyed at him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bud had wound up at a bar that night, which was usually the case for him when the domestic stuff got bad. The whole visit had been quite the disaster. Less than two months later her parents had died in a car crash and his wife was devastated. He hated that his first instinct was how grateful he was that they’d no longer be needling him any longer and the forced visits were now at an end. He didn’t even think about what the loss had done to his wife’s mental health. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens</b></p><p>He glanced around the apartment and noticed how even though it was the same, it was strikingly different. It had been remodeled and freshly painted. “It looks good.” Jason must have fixed it. “Did you-” Toys, his gut noticed de-railing his thoughts. There were toys on the floor, one of those bouncy things toddlers sat in and Pokemon cards on the coffee table. Kids obviously lived here. He had not expected or prepared himself for there to be kids in his son’s life. <em> Grandkids, </em> he thought holding his tongue and keeping his emotions in check. <em> They’re your grandkids. </em> “You have kids?” He asked lightly. Suddenly it clicked. He noticed the ring on his finger and the table of pictures… pictures of a family. </p><p>Two kids… a wife… He walked over to the pictures on a table. His family photos. There were so many of him and a woman and two kids. </p><p>On the side was what appeared to be a wedding photo. The woman was pretty and had dark brown hair and sat on a porch swing next to his son. She was smiling in a simple white lace dress and an old fashioned circlet veil resting her head on his shoulder as he looked down at her just as happy. Bud picked up the wedding photo. The young woman was familiar. He’d seen her before when- “Oh, you married her?” He asked, shocked.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>August, 1994<br/>
Sherwood, Ohio</b>
</p><p>
  <em> “You know,” he told her as he closed her bedroom door. Her parents had insisted it was okay for them to leave the guests as the party had wound down. They both were tired and ready to be done being sociable even though they knew their friends and family loved them. Weddings were like that. Well, Veronica wasn’t so sure. She hoped she wouldn’t be doing it ever again to be honest. “I don’t think we ever did the dirty in your bedroom,” he noted, eying her queen sized bed leftover from her teenage life. It still had the same blue and purple comforter she’d had in high school. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” She asked, laughing. She walked up to the food she had snuck up earlier, and took a nibble. She had been worried they wouldn’t get a chance to eat at the reception and had been warned it was a possibility. And it was true. So many well wishers it was hard to get some snacks in her tummy. Carefully she picked up a slice of gouda from the cheese, fruit, and bread plate she had decided was exclusively for the bride and groom and popped it in her mouth. She smiled. Heather had made sure there was a bottle of bubbly for them on some ice waiting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And a box of condoms. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Veronica laughed. She had meant it probably as a joke seeing as how she had her birth control routine taken care of, but it was very much a Heather M kind of thing to do. She had attended her bachelorette party after all and remembered the things Heather and Martha had gifted her with as part of the fun. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, we did it in mine,” he mused walking up behind her and producing an extra slice of cake for the two of them to share later. She smiled, grateful he thought of it. “Lots of times.” But he pulled her away from it for a moment. They’d nibble on it in a few. Sadly she looked back to it but the expression of tenderness on his face was too much of a distraction to think of food. They had been joking all night in their secret quiet moments all the places they’d done it when they were teens and less akin to privacy and this was the conclusion to their joking. He continued, sliding his hands down her bare arms and lifting them to encircle around his neck. “...Or when I moved into that basement. Oh, and you loved the backseat of my car but…” He tenderly touched her hair which was down and slightly curled, still pinned into the veil her grandma had allowed her to borrow. She closed her eyes, warm to his touch. She felt the cool summer night breeze blow through her bedroom window and listened to the lowered volume of the music from outside for the last of the guests still enjoying the rest of the booze and music. The faint glow of twinkle lights from the backyard they had set up and her desk lamp made the whole room serenely glow in the dim light. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her parents were outside still among the remaining few guests, enjoying the company, and the last of the celebration of their only child’s nuptials. It had been surprisingly not as stressful as she feared it could have been. Well, it was only a small wedding in the backyard of her parent’s house in Ohio with close friends and family after all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> JD was in a particularly sweet mood she noticed. All lovey and romantic. She liked it. She wondered if she should marry him more often if this is how he was gonna be. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, stop it. We must’ve done it in my bed at least…” She tried to remember. “Oh! The night you snuck in after the fight,” she reminded him—definitely not wanting that to linger or stain the day with the full memory— of the night he’d come to her tired and shaken wanting to spend the night being held by her. </em>
</p><p><em> “Nope,” he told her. He pulled her against him gently and began to sway her back and forth as a slow song began to play outside. </em> Harvest Moon <em> , she recognized. Neil Young. Good song. JD hated music like this, but it was slow and he knew she liked the album- he’d had it playing when he proposed. She glanced up at him and his eyes twinkled at the remembrance.  </em></p><p>“...When we were strangers, I watched you from afar. When we were lovers, I loved you with all my heart…”</p><p>
  <em> “We didn’t?” She asked, surprised. “No… too weird with my parents down the hall,” she recalled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hmmm,” he agreed, pulling her close. </em>
</p><p>“...But now it's gettin' late, and the moon is climbin' high. I want to celebrate, see it shinin' in your eye…”</p><p>
  <em> “Wow,” she amazed. “Never, huh?” She didn’t even notice him gently gripping the tab of the zipper in her dress and slowly pull it down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Never,” he reminded her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Guess it was only a half truth we told my maternal grandma. We really are going to have a first tonight,” she whispered as he helped her step out of the dress. He chortled. The woman had been very standoffish to him, but he had been promised by both Veronica and her mother that was pretty much how she was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She knows we’ve been living together for a year, right? Dating for five?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mom told her that we keep separate bedrooms though,” Veronica dead panned. He laughed at the idea that anyone would believe a non-religious couple living together in their 20s was not having sex and kept separate rooms. It was such a grandma lie to tell. He took the dress and carefully hung it up for her on a hanger. She appreciated his understanding it was something she didn’t want damaged. After hanging it he turned and walked up to her, carefully removing her grandmother’s beautiful veil from the pins holding it in place. It was lace, circular, and old. She had presented it to her before the wedding and Veronica had promised to take good care of it. He walked it over to her desk where the box she’d brought it in was. He carefully put it back, knowing how much it meant to his girl— wife, he now had to get used to saying— and her grandmother. She had looked more radiant in it than at any time in their life together. She watched carefully as he took off a pair of silver cuff links that looked familiar. She had noticed them during the ceremony but had forgotten to ask about them. “I meant to ask, where’d those cuff links come from?” He closed the box they were in. “You don’t own any. Did your aunt bring them, or…?” She asked, trying to recall if she possibly had any heirlooms from the grandfather JD didn’t really remember. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re dad lent them to me actually,” he told her quietly. “He said your grandpa gave them to him to wear on his wedding, and your uncle wore them at his.” Veronica crinkled her eyes. Her dad hadn’t told her he was giving JD her grandpa’s cufflinks. She’d have to remember to hug him extra hard for that one. “I just want to make sure he gets them back. I’m not really used to family heirlooms and such.” Veronica nodded, remembering her own pearls around her neck, the ones that she had officially taken as a gift now that they were married. She was about to take the necklace off when he stopped her. “Leave them on,” he requested. “I love seeing you wear them.” She obliged. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He walked back to her and she slipped her arms around his neck and continued their slow dance. He began to kiss her sweet ear tenderly, his hands reverently working their way up and down her sides, worshiping her. He began to undue all the gizmos and trappings of formal wear underclothes— he’d gotten much more adept at it than the first time she’d worn fancy undergarments for him on their prom night— as she began to slide the tie down his neck and slip him out of his own wedding clothes. He’d actually acquiesced to a new suit, and one that fit. Black, but fitted.</em>
</p><p>“Because I'm still in love with you, I want to see you dance again. Because I'm still in love with you on this harvest moon…”</p><p>
  <em> He slipped his arms under her knees and scooped her up bridal style before walking her over to the same bed she had as a teenager and laid her down. “I love you,” she told him, groping her hand over to the side lamp to click off as he finished undressing and climbed in on top of her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you,” he agreed. “My wife,” he confirmed running his hand down the side of her face again. “I love my wife.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And I love my husband,” she agreed as she clicked the light off and tick marked off consummating their marriage in her childhood bedroom that he had climbed through the window of several times as a teenage delinquent chasing a pretty girl he had an epic crush on. </em>
</p><p>“Because I'm still in love with you, I want to see you dance again. Because I'm still in love with you, on this harvest moon…”</p><p>
  <em> “Halloween!” She reminded him as they cuddled after finishing up the plate of cheese, cake, and champagne. “That Halloween night my folks were out of town…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh that’s right!” He remembered now. “Shoot I really thought I had something with this whole wedding night and first time in your bed thing.” She giggled and pulled his arm around her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hush. It was still really special JD…” </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens</b></p><p>Bud was still holding their wedding photo and eying it. JD’s wedding and that night were one of his most treasured and sacred memories. “Um, Vicky, right?” Bud asked, groping for the name of the girl he had been hanging around in Ohio. JD walked over and took his wedding photo out of his father’s hands and replaced it on the table carefully. It oddly reminded him of being seventeen when his father had found her blue bracelet she’d left on the couch in Sherwood and he saw his father had been touching it. He couldn’t explain why after so much time and so much help it still hit him hard to see his hands near anything pertaining to her. “Veronica,” he corrected. “Her name is Veronica,” JD said, a lot more defensive than he meant it to be. “We got married ten years ago.”</p><p>“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t-” Bud ran his hand through what was left of his hair. <em> So much time. </em>“So, um, so you two have kids?” His father asked, looking around the apartment and pointing at the toys and relics of the small people who lived with them and didn’t chip in with the bills.</p><p>“Yes,” he admitted, realizing there was no point to lie. “A boy and a girl.”</p><p>Bud nodded, trying to hide his desperate curiosity. “What, um, what are their names?” He asked tentatively. JD swallowed. He still hadn’t figured out what his father’s purpose of being here after all this time was but gave in anyway.</p><p>“Dylan’s nine, and Valerie’s two.”<br/>
<br/>
“You named her after your mother?” He asked, his voice quivering</p><p>JD crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “Yes.” He couldn’t stand it anymore. “What are you doing here? It’s been fifteen years since you kicked me out,” he spoke bluntly. Bud felt the wound his words had almost internally, not that he knew he didn’t deserve it.</p><p>“I remember you walking out,” he said slowly. JD snorted.</p><p>“I used to tell anyone who asked that it was a ‘mutual decision.’ That was one way of putting it I guess. Better than saying there was a knockdown fight and I left in anger after you told me to go.” <em> To say nothing of what happened the next day. The moment I almost put a bullet in your skull. </em>He felt uneasy, bad memories and old resentments swirling in his head. He tried to desperately assert and remember that he was a thirty-three year old man, not a seventeen year old boy.</p><p>“I know. I was mad. The things you said to me that day…” he trailed off remembering. His son had been right. The truth hurt. If it weren’t for him his mother would probably still be there. He had pushed the goddamn button. <em> My mother is dead because of you! </em>The anger, the raw anger the two had that day. Things unsaid when finally said often erupt like dormant volcanoes. Quiet for eons, but when finally unleashed…</p><p><em>Kerplooey</em>.</p><p>“They hit hard,” Bud finished.</p><p>JD put his work bag down and opened his kitchen cabinet. He pulled down his and Veronica’s stash of emergency scotch they kept away from the short people’s view and pulled down two glasses. He poured a splash for himself and one for his dad before putting it back on the shelf. JD took the cup and pushed the other one to his father. “Don’t let me stop you. Just not the whole bottle. Veronica and I don’t really drink a lot but when we do we like the good stuff. It was kind of expensive and an anniversary gift. I’d hate to see it wasted on someone that usually drinks in quantity not quality.”</p><p>Bud swallowed and shook his head. <em> I deserve that. </em> “Um, that’s okay,” he told him, staring at it. JD eyed him curiously. He’d never heard his father turn a free drink down. “I, um, I’m in a program right now actually,” Bud told him. The gears began to click in JD’s head. “The kind with steps.” JD chuckled. </p><p>“Well, I’ll drink to that,” he said sarcastically as he took the shot and had the other one too in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves before putting both glasses in the sink. He coughed slightly at the alcohol. He wasn’t used to drinking that quickly or in the middle of the day.</p><p>“I’m not lying,” Bud said, trying to own up to his truth. “I, um, I can even show you my thirty day chip.” He took a token out of his pocket and put it on the table in front of his son. JD stared at it incredulously. It looked real. Not that he thought he could tell the difference between a real and a counterfeit AA chip.</p><p>“So what is this then ? Are you fifth stepping? You? You of all people really just finished taking the inventory of your moral actions, and now you’ve come here to apologize to those you harmed? Color me surprised.” He sounded harsh, and disbelieving he knew. But if it were literally anyone else he might have congratulated them on their progress, but it wasn’t anyone else. In front of him telling him he was sober and working on himself was a man who haunted his nightmares and was directly responsible for his massive panic attack the night Veronica had told him she was pregnant with Dylan.</p>
<hr/><p><b>March, 1996<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>
  <em> “So, um, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said, a bundle of nerves. They were in bed, the sheets crumpled around them from recent activities. JD was holding her, still enjoying the afterglow, with his head buried in her neck breathing her in. He marveled at how the lights from the street outside haloed her like a goddess. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” He asked absently, kissing the back of her neck and down her bare back. They’d been together for six, married for one and the passion was still there. He still burned for her as brightly and as hard as he had as a seventeen year old boy. “That it’s amazing I can still rock your world that well after seven years?” He grumbled into her body, not having picked up on her tone and trying to instigate another round before passing out with their limbs entangled. In the long-term they’d been together they had gone through some mild dry spells but lately they had decidedly been not. “God, how you still light my fire baby.” Veronica laughed, but she began tensing in his arms. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, uh, JD stop,” she told him, even though it did feel really good. But what she had to tell him was more important. “This is important.” He paused his attempts to initiate another round, finally picking up on her seriousness. </em>
</p><p><em> “What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly worried. She was seldom this serious and he was concerned. Doctor. </em> Fuck. She’d been to the doctor that morning. <em> “Was it something at the doctor’s?” He asked, anxious. “I thought you said it was just a check up?” </em> <em><br/>
</em></p><p><em> “No, no. Stop. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I’m fine. Better than fine I’m-” She started shaking. “It’s just— I’m— we’re, oh yuck I hate when people say ‘we’re having-’ Okay, just say it,” she told herself, getting her courage. “Um, so, do you remember how I decided to switch to using the sponge instead of the pill because the pill was making me feel yucky lately and the sponge seemed better than a diaphragm?” She paused, thinking. “Like, for real? Who invented the diaphragm? A plumber? It’s like sticking a plug up your coo- Sorry, not the point.” He slanted his eyes, not following. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> “Veronica, what are you trying to tell me? I’m really confused. And I hate to sound like a guy right now but I don’t even think I really understand what a diaphragm is. Nor that women still used them. I thought that went out of fashion with bell bottoms.” He hated admitting it, and knew he wasn’t supposed to do it, but he kind of left birth control up to her unless she told him he needed a condom for some reason. He had a sinking suspicion that this lack of paying attention was suddenly about to be paid back to him. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Well, the 70s are back! I saw some teens sporting fros and psychedelic prints the other day. Sorry. Not the point. I just meant I changed up the birth control plan and well, what are the odds, ya know?” She laughed. “It turns out this method is only 90% effective, not 99. Um, well, that’s also if used properly which I now don’t think I did at first. And we’ve just both been so in the mood! Especially after coming home from that show at the Knitting Factory last month tipsy and— Sorry. I’m babbling— I’m just gonna say it. Okay. I’m pregnant,” she finally spat out. There she said it. She said IT.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> JD’s eyes widened as the news went from his ears to his brain and the panic set in knowing he was supposed to say something. He was supposed to say, “that’s wonderful!” And quickly. Very quickly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But he was speechless. Kids. They had talked about them in the theoretic sense, and with the idea that maybe down the line… Kids. She was going to have a kid. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “JD. Please. You’ve gotta say something,” she said, a quaver in her voice when more than a few seconds went by. Her face went from hopeful to worried on a dime. “Anything. I’m- I told you something big and I’m scared and-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He kissed her, fiercely. She was surprised and shocked but after a moment fell into his kiss and reciprocated fiercely as he took her to bed. He had rather hoped his old tactic of using sex to avoid an argument could work like it used to with her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After they were done he held her in his arms and played with the little lock of hair he loved. In a moment of clarity he realized what the issue was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry. I know you dislike it when I use sex to avoid an argument. I was being an ass.” She sighed, she had welcomed it to be honest. It gave her a moment of calm to process the whole thing. “Please forgive me. I’m just- I’m terrified,” he told her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So am I. I wanted to wait until after my doctoral work was over to broach the topic. Now, it sort of got thrust upon us.” He held her close, kissing her shoulder.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Veronica, the truth is… I’ve always been terrified if we had a kid that I’m gonna- I’m going to be exactly like mine.” His dad. Would they never be free of the specter that he cast over his— and by extension— their lives? </em>
</p><p><em> She took his hand and put it on her stomach, sighing. It was warm. </em> My kid’s in there, <em> he realized as he touched her flat stomach. “Then don’t be. I’ve told you this before JD, you’re only like him if you choose to be. He destroyed things. So many people and things. This though? This is creating it. I told you, I’m scared too. I’m scared that I won’t be very good at all this either but...” She turned and looked at him. </em></p><p>
  <em> He nodded fiercely, believing her. “Christ, a kid.” The idea was starting to take root in his brain, the reality of being a father, having a child to be responsible for. His thumb gently stroked her still flat stomach, imagining it to be the baby’s head. He turned his resolve on. “I love you and I’m gonna love this kid,” he finally said to her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She sighed. “Let’s rewind. JD, I think we both need a do-over on this one.” She sat up in bed, wrapping the blanket around her chilly body. “Okay, JD. I’ve got to tell you something big.” He took her hand and squeezed it in solidarity. </em>
</p><p><em> “What is it?” </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> “I’m pregnant.” </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> “That’s wonderful!” He whispered to her fiercely right away. She smiled and hugged him. </em></p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>“You don’t have to accept the apology,” he told him, awkwardly standing in his son’s apartment. “But- but I have to do it.” He looked back at the wedding photo and realized. “Your mother’s necklace. You had it?” JD sighed.</p><p>“I took it when I left. I was surprised you kept it when I spotted them.” Bud blinked. “Mom- she loved them. She would have been pissed if you sold them like most of her other stuff.” His father flinched, remembering how he had just wholesale thrown out or sold everything of his wife’s in a fit of rage and depression after she’d killed herself not even stopping to wonder how his son was. </p><p>“I didn’t see the point. Her clothes, her things… I couldn’t stay in that house either. I was supposed to make it nice for her. Fix it. Make it ours.” JD vaguely remembered that childhood house. He remembered it in a constant state of projects with wood in the backyard to build a fence and paint cans in the kitchen. His father had projects all the time he’d start but never finish. It was a chaotic way to live that never aided his mother’s own decaying mental health. Having done repair work and construction for years now he realized how much living like that can weigh someone’s mental state down.</p><p>“Was that why we moved all the time then?” JD asked, trying to keep his anger and old resentment in check.</p><p>“I wanted to run away from my problems,” he repeated, clearly parroting something one is told in a program, “but I always brought the problems with me and had to leave again.” <em> And dragged me along with them, </em>JD thought but didn’t say.</p><p>“I never did buy that it was ‘for work.’ We could have stayed in a city and you’d have had plenty of work in one general place.” When he was old enough to understand how the demolition industry worked he couldn’t make hide nor hair of how any business could function the way his did. Permits needed to be obtained, licenses differed from state to state… </p><p>“This is the first time I’ve been in New York since she died,” Bud owned up. “I met her here. She and I, we fell in-”</p><p>“I get it,” JD said, cutting him off. “I saw <em> The Way We Were </em> .” He didn’t think he could take his father blubbering over his mother. Not when memories of his yelling at her, his pushing her around, and his own destructive tactics on himself were far too crystalline in his own memory.<br/>
<br/>
“Look, I know you don’t believe me, and you’re right not to trust me, but I did love her. When I met her she was so kind, pretty, and exuberant. You couldn’t be around her and not orbit her.” He furrowed his brow. “She had so much life in her and that’s all I wanted after getting back from- after the army. I just wanted to be around life and I- and I-” tears sprung into his eyes to JD’s surprise. “I destroyed that life too.” He turned to his son. “And you. I loved you too. You were so tiny when she put you in my arms for the first time. You know what it’s like, when they let you hold your kid the first time? It’s not until that moment that you realize it’s real. That you’re a dad.”<br/>
JD did.</p>
<hr/><p><b>December, 1996<br/>
</b> <b>New York, NY</b></p><p>
  <em> Snow was gently falling outside the hospital window. JD was just happy they got her to the hospital during the storm when Veronica had gone into labor in the middle of a snow day. It had let up a little though and he could hear the plow going. None of that really mattered though. His arm was around Veronica and they were both sweaty and beat, emotionally and physically. Well, Veronica more so than him since she had been doing all the work. He had been with her though, doing whatever she wanted him to do. Holding her hand, telling her she was doing well— all the stuff he was told he was supposed to do in the delivery room. And here they were with a baby. A real one that needed to be fed and cared for. No take backs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They both couldn’t take their eyes off of him. Him. Dylan. Their son. The kid they had made together. They were both freaked. There was still so much uncertainty: money, jobs, school… but in that one moment of newness to the world they couldn’t worry about any of it. Yeah, they were freaked, but the best kind of freaked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You are amazing,” he whispered to his wife, kissing her forehead. “Hey, you too kid,” he said to the infant who was still in the process of discovering what his eyes were and that he could open and close them. “You were pretty amazing there yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey, you haven’t held him yet,” she said, exhaustion tugging on her. “Take him.” Awkwardly she passed the baby into his arms. He barely felt like any weight— having only weighed in at seven pounds and eight ounces. So small, newborns are tinier than you think they are. And quieter. He had to strain to catch his cries. But at the moment they were music. In a week they’d be his aggravation, but right now those murmurs and cries were just proof he was alive and well. And this little thing in his arms looked like he could break if he held it too closely. </em>
</p><p><em> “Dylan Dean. Hey, you should thank us for that name,” he told his son. “You could be a rock star with a name like that.” Veronica laughed, in awe of the sight of him with their baby in his arms. </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> “Or some romantic poet who wanders the west for inspiration.” He laughed. “Is William okay for the middle name? After my dad and grandpa?” He nodded. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, I think he’ll like that. Dylan William Dean. Oh yeah. Definitely going to be a writer or something exciting. DWD. I can see it stitched into his clothes now.” He looked over and saw that Veronica was now in the midst of a well deserved sleep. He smiled at her then back down at his son. “Hey,” he whispered to him before bringing his lips down to kiss the infant’s head. “I won’t be anything like mine, I promise. I’ll protect and love you and your mother with every fiber of my being.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He had only ever fallen in love with one other person in his life that easily, and she was laying on the bed staring at the two of them not quite as asleep as he thought she was.  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>May, 2003<br/>
</b> <b>New York, NY</b></p><p>
  <em> Seven years later JD was amazed at the same love washed over him again when Veronica handed him his daughter. Dylan was seven and waiting with his grandparents outside the delivery room for when they were ready to introduce him to his baby sister. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you think of Valerie?” He asked her as he held the girl. They had had the hardest time thinking of girls' names. It had never occurred to him until that moment to suggest his mom’s name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “After your mom?” She smiled. It clicked. “I like it. Do you mind Helen for the middle? After grandma?” He nodded. He had liked her grandmother a lot and missed her almost as much as Veronica did. She had died a year before of melanoma cancer at eighty-two. It saddened them both to know that she wouldn’t get to meet her great-granddaughter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Valerie Helen Dean.” He smiled at the little girl, realizing there were now three people in the world now he would gladly give his life for. “Now she will definitely be a rockstar.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Or a poet…” Veronica quipped. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>His father continued. “I don’t- I really don’t understand how I could do it. How I could fuck it all up. I was just so messed up I didn’t know how to love her or you properly.”</p><p>“Look, we don’t have to-” He wasn’t sure if his mental health could take hashing this all out on one Saturday afternoon.</p><p>“No, um, I have to. It’s a part of the— part of the way the process works. I have to admit my mistakes. Out loud. Take ownership,” he said, repeating the terminology from the program. “I hurt her. I loved her but I bullied her emotionally and physically. I used you against her. I gave her no other way to leave. She wanted me to pull the trigger when she took her life. And I did.” He leaned against the counter and stared at the bottle of whisky JD hadn’t put away yet. Realizing it was still out JD put it out of sight. “Jason, I had no idea what to do with a kid after she left. None. So… I let you raise yourself, moved you all over because I couldn’t stand to be in one place for very long, and eventually I began to push you around like I did to her. I’m just glad you didn’t leave me the same way she left us. I’d rather you never talked to me again because you hated me than because you were dead.” </p><p>Memories of his teen years flooded him. The times he did think about doing just that. Some of it to spite him, a lot of it to numb his own pain. He was grateful every day of his life he managed to get on the exit route out of that self-destruction and on to a normal life. He was grateful for the doctors he’d spoken to over the years— first to Beckett, then to a man named Campbell in New York— for helping him work through his trauma and help him navigate around his anger to lead him to something resembling a happy adulthood.</p><p>He debated telling his father just that. That he’d been close to taking his own life.</p><p>He was about to lay that at his feet when they heard the door unlock. Veronica walked in the door awkwardly with a toddler in one arm, a large baby/kid bag in the other, and a nine year old in toe with a baseball glove wearing his team shirt. <em> The park. The game. I was supposed to meet them there. </em>In the ensuing “reunion” he had nearly forgotten. “-Oh my god, Dylan I don’t want to hear another word about water balloons! Okay? I don’t know where your dad is and we’ve got to wash the playground off of you and your sister needs to go down-” Veronica noticed the stranger in her apartment. It took her a few moments to recognize his face, but when she did she couldn’t believe the ghost that was in her apartment. “-For a nap,” she finished. Neither of them had seen his father since the day he had grabbed her and JD had pulled a gun on him and was only a momentous active choice away from firing it.</p><p>AKA one of the worst moments of both their lives. The crossroads of their lives, really, remembering the choice and the risk she had made in another world at the time.</p><p>His father’s face lit up at the sight of the kids— kids that were biologically his grandkids.</p><p>“Um, Dylan, go wash your hands, we’re going to go get ice cream instead.” </p><p>“Wait. Ice cream? But you said I couldn’t-” The boy asked, shocked and unsure what was happening.</p><p>“Dylan. Hands. Wash them. Change out of your dirty pants or you won’t get french fries with them too. Now!” The boy hurried to do as his mother said. His mother never took him for ice cream or french fries in the middle of the afternoon like this, especially when she had moments before scolded him about throwing water balloons on strangers at the park.</p><p>“It’s, um, good to see you Veronica,” Bud croaked, his eyes on the fussy toddler in her arms struggling to keep her eyes open and letting the whole world understand her frustration over needing a nap. Veronica eyed the man up and down and barely registered an expression. This was the man that had haunted her husband his whole life and who had made herself feel uncomfortable and scared. She also had a fussy toddler in her arms and shifted her to try and calm her. She turned to JD, walked over, and kissed his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
“Meet us at Rocky’s when you’re done.” He kissed her head and then his daughter’s, gently stroking her hair. It had a calming effect on the girl like his touch seemed to have on her and she stopped fussing and put her head on her mom’s shoulder, tired. JD grabbed the stroller so Valerie could nap in it while she and Dylan sat at the outdoor cafe and ate. </p><p>JD held the door for her and Dylan— washed and changed— grabbed the kid bag as he was raised to do to help and she left with the kids. “I’m sure I owe her an apology too,” Bud said when she left. “It’s hard to remember those times but I know I said some awful things to her or about her to you.” JD considered this carefully. <em> He might not be lying. He probably doesn’t remember how close I came to pulling the trigger. </em><br/>
<br/>
“You don’t remember do you? The day after the fight?” He asked. He needed to confront this head on. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you blacked it out. It was the most hammered I’d ever seen you.” </p><p>Bud hesitated. The events surrounding his son’s departure from his life were not memories he liked revisiting even if he had been perfectly aware during them. He remembered telling his son to get out. He remembered hitting him but Jason fighting back. He remembered the angry words and the accusations. He remembered the door slamming. He remembered him gone from his life and not sure if that was for the good or the bad. He hadn’t meant to tell his son to leave. </p><p>As much as he didn’t want to parent the idea of him being gone hurt just the same. It continued to hurt long afterwards.</p><p>Bud remembered hitting the bottle. Hard. The last bit he remembered was getting the pictures out. The family ones. The ones that showed him, his wife, and son in a domestic setting, projecting a life of happiness. He remembered getting her pearls out. He always wondered why she wasn’t wearing them the day she died. They were the ones he gave her on the day she gave birth. One of the nicer gifts he’d given her.</p><p>“I can…” He swallowed, anticipating the worst. “I recall waking up later that day and your stuff was gone. There was aspirin and seltzer waiting for me. I called Veronica’s house later, still out of it but aware you were gone. I spoke with her father and he told me you were asleep in their spare room. He seemed disgusted with me. Rightfully so, I imagine. That’s all though. I assume- I assume we had a confrontation? With me in that state?” He asked, bracing to find out what other atrocity he had committed under the influence. Since he had started the program and the fifth step he had found out a lot of things. A lot of unfortunate behavior patterns and the many terrible things he had said or done when he drank too much. </p><p>He’d admitted that he drank to numb the trauma he had experienced in war. He drank to numb the trauma of his wife’s passing. And after Jason left he had started to also drink to numb the trauma of his son finally leaving him. Alone. He was completely alone after that. And after pushing all of that away, well, what else was there to do but drink?</p><p>Now it was his son’s turn to tell him. JD told him every detail of their final conversation. What he had been doing and saying. Without hesitation he explained that he had been one small choice away from blowing his brains out in his own vengeful anger. One choice and he probably would have ended both their lives that day.</p><p>His dad stumbled back, clutching Valerie’s bouncy chair for support. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “To both of you. Tell her how sorry I am. The crap that I put you through...”</p><p>“It’s- it happened,” JD told him. He realized it wasn’t worth it to hash it all out. It was in the past, it was done. “There was nothing either of us could have done to change it. I don’t think there was anything at that point we could have done to salvage it. I had so much anger in me back then.” He tried to remember the anger of his teenage years and it made him cold. “And so much propensity to violence. Do you know how many fights I got into in middle school or high school? God, I was averaging one or two a week before senior year. I may not have picked them most of the time, but god damn I knew how to finish them.” He recalled his anger and his ability to hurt anyone who he thought deserved it. </p><p>“No, I um, never paid much attention to the letters home from the schools,” he admitted. “The calls always felt like an inconvenience when they did.” <em> Besides, the best solution to that was to move. </em>He had never attended any parent conference or bothered to talk to any teacher of his son’s that tried to contact him. He would just pack it all up and move so often he thought it didn’t matter.</p><p>He wanted to change the subject. “I remember seeing in the news the business went under. You finally got sued by an environmentalist group with a little political power.”</p><p>“yes, I most certainly did.”</p>
<hr/><p><b>March, 2002<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>
  <em> JD was on the couch watching TV and Veronica was working on her computer at the small desk/office set up in their living room. His aunt had taken Dylan for the night. They were showing Wizard of Oz at a local movie theater on a nice print and she knew JD and Veronica could use a night off. Veronica was finishing up entering some grades from the class she was teaching and JD’s feet were killing him. He’d been in work boots and on a site all week and was more than ready for a responsibility free night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Is this really how we’re going to spend a perfectly exciting evening to ourselves without the kid?” Veronica laughed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Give me fifteen minutes to finish this then I’m all yours. I promise.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can extrapolate a lot from that…” He teased. She giggled as he flipped the channel until he got to the news. </em>
</p><p>“Hi! I’m Big Bud Dean! If it’s in your way I’ll make it pay!” <em> The plunger exploded and the screen fake broke and it cut to a number and the name of a company. </em></p><p>
  <em> Both Veronica and JD stopped cold and turned to the screen. They could hardly believe it. They hadn’t seen that commercial on cable in years. “What was-” JD shushed her and turned up the volume. </em>
</p><p>“Many may remember the commercial running all over the country in the late 80s and 90s on late night TV but today the company finally filed for bankruptcy following a series of class action lawsuits leveled against it by a PAC composed of environmental lobbyists claiming for years the demolition company violated many EPA standards and often operated against local officials wishes…” <em> the reporter spoke on the TV. </em></p><p>
  <em> The news showed footage of Bud Dean heading into court in a crumpled suit holding his hand up to the camera, as if that would protect his identity.  </em>
</p><p>“The suits have reportedly been settled out of court, but the real victory was in this landmark win by the environmental lobby…” <em> The newscaster continued, explaining the group’s intent and several other victories. The fact that Bud Dean had been known for his over-the-top commercials was merely the frosting it seemed. </em></p><p>
  <em> Veronica took JD’s hand as they watched. “I can’t believe it,” Veronica said, watching in surprise. The ghost on the TV set hovered now in her and her husband’s living room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can. He used to brag to me about how they’d never been able to nail him. I guess you piss in the wind long enough some of it;ll hit back at you,” he said to his own surprise. It was an expression of his father’s.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Have you heard anything about this though?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “First I’ve heard of it.” The news went to commercial. He shook his head. “Hey, doesn’t matter.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Are you sure?” She asked, unsure if he was lying to himself or her about how ‘okay’ he was to have his father brought up like this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s fine. Probably had money hiding somewhere. I honestly don’t know or care. Veronica I-” They were interrupted as the door opened and a toddler barreled through it upset. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dylan ran to his father and flung himself on him upset. “Hey kid, what is it?” He asked in a comforting and confused voice putting his hand over his dark hair and stroking it. His aunt was right behind him and stood at the door apologetic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Phyll? What is it?” Veronica asked. Phyll clucked sympathetically.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know I told you I’d take him to see a movie so you could have a night off but… well… someone unfortunately-” Veronica bent down to inspect her child. She saw the soiled shirt from her son having vomited and how green he looked around the gills. Quickly she went into mom mode and touched her hand to his forehead to check for a temperature.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh Dylan...” Veronica said, comfortingly and picking him up. He groaned in the middle of a half sob of discomfort. “JD, get the thermometer I think he has a fever…” JD nodded and quickly leapt into motion. They ended up spending the rest of the night caring for a sick child and worrying if they needed to go to an emergency room. </em>
</p><p><em> Dylan ended up falling asleep and his mild fever cleared up by the morning, but the distraction tabled any real discussion of his father for the time being. </em> <em><br/>
</em></p>
<hr/><p><b>2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>Bud shrugged. “Yep. Lost everything with that suit. I hit rock bottom two months ago. Had to dissolve the company, file for bankruptcy. I’ve been living off my savings, but, uh, those are running thin to be honest.” </p><p>JD considered it all very carefully. There was so much he wanted to yell at his father about:</p><p>
  <em> "Everything I do for my kids is to make up for everything you did with me.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I taught my son how to play baseball at six, not shoot a gun. And when she's big enough to hold a mitt, I'm gonna teach her too." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I would die before I ever hurt my wife or kids.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You didn't want me to be your son, you wanted a drinking buddy, a punching bag, someone to take care of you."  </em>
</p><p>Instead he asked the simple question. “How long has it been since your last drink?” He asked, wanting honesty. “I saw the thirty day chip but be honest with me.”</p><p>“Two months,” he told his son honestly. “Before that three weeks. I’ve- I’ve fallen off the wagon this year a few times. But, um, I’m finally committing myself to it this time. This is the longest I’ve been sober.” JD considered it carefully. He needed time to think away from him. He needed to talk to Veronica. And he definitely needed to talk to Dr. Campbell, his therapist. His estranged father waiting for him outside his apartment wanting back into his life was certainly due cause to see one’s shrink.</p><p>“Look, where are you staying?” JD asked, looking through his bag. The familiarity of taking care of his father was creeping back into him and he was powerless to control it. Just like all the times he paid the bills, bought groceries, or put out the seltzer water and aspirin. Every god damn blanket he put on top of him when he passed out on the couch.</p><p>“I got a room at a motel in Flushing. It’s not great, but it’s cheap and has a lock.” JD nodded, getting his wallet out. He had about fifty bucks in cash on him.</p><p>“Take this,” he said trying to hand him the cash. “For now. We can- I don’t know. I guess we can find a more permanent place for you to live later.” Bud stared at the money, disbelieving. </p><p>“No. No. I promise. I’m not here for— I don’t want your money,” his father said. “You don’t need to take care of me,” Bud told him, unsure how this happened. Unsure how Jason could be doing this. He was here because he had promised his mother he’d always take care of his son not the other way around.</p><p>“Just take it. Get some groceries.” Reluctantly his father did. “And look. Here’s my number.” He handed him his business card. His father smiled at it.</p><p>Bud Dean’s fingers examined the business card. </p><p>
  <b> <em>Jason Dean</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Department of Building</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The City of New York</em> </b>
</p><p>“You wanted to go into a civil engineering program. I remember.” He also remembered shitting all over it when she saw him filling out the applications.</p><p>“I started in construction management. I have a bachelor’s in that. I finished my masters last year,” he told him. They’d been lucky to have his aunt next door who didn’t mind helping them out with Dylan and Val so he could. </p><p>Phyll. He wondered what Phyll would think of his dad popping in like this. </p><p>“That’s, um, that’s good work. Good pay for the city I imagine. Benefits. Good to take care of the kids.”</p><p>“We’re good,” he informed his dad. “I help Phyll take care of this house too. Rent the bottom two out. Helps offset the cost of maintenance and taxes and all that.”</p><p>Bud considered his son carefully. He remembered the toddler who liked to stack towers with blocks or build with Legos. It made sense now that he realized it. He was smart enough for it. “Um. Sometimes there are meetings, where people bring their spouses or kids. Would you..?”</p><p>“I’ll think about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know I don’t deserve it, and your wife probably wouldn’t like it but… I’d like to meet them,” he gestured to a picture from last summer. It was of him with Valerie in one arm and Dylan hugging him on the side. They had gone to the beach. Veronica had taken the picture laughing, egging the three of them into— as she put it— “one nice picture.”</p>
<hr/><p><b>June, 2004<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY<br/>
</b> <b>The Rockaways</b></p><p>
  <em> They were on the Rockaways. Dylan was darting in and out of the water laughing with some other kids. JD had Valerie in his arms showing her the waves at the beginning of the tide. Veronica was watching them from underneath her big floppy hat and sunglasses, a book she was having trouble concentrating on in her lap. She loved watching him at the beach. It was the only time she saw him out of all black and basking in the sunshine. He was really good with the kids. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> JD held his daughter by the arms and laughed with her shrieks as he dipped her toes in and out of the oncoming waves. He clutched her arms tightly, “I won’t let go honey,” he promised her as they both felt the water and sand tickle their toes. Valerie was already a fearless kid though, wanting to rush right into the water but even so little she knew she liked her daddy’s strong arms protecting her. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>“Is this the Rockaways?” He asked, carefully. Bud remembered the date he had gone on with his wife before they were married.  When he took the photo of her with her hair blowing in the wind. When they snuck and she…</p><p>He blinked. <em> I still miss her. </em></p><p>“Yes,” JD told him. “Veronica loves it out there. And, um, it reminds me of when we were little and mom would take me to the water. She loved the coast.” </p><p>Bud nodded and was instantly taken back to his own memories of the Gulf shore. His wife had loved the beach and loved taking day trips to the water. She had once admitted it was the only thing about moving to Texas she loved. </p>
<hr/><p><b>September, 1975<br/>
</b> <b>The Gulf Coast, Texas</b></p><p>
  <em> “Oh leave him alone Bud, he’s scared. He doesn’t want to go rushing into the waves yet. He’s only three!” His mother was sitting on a towel on the sand in a blue modest bikini with pink bows drinking in the sunshine and lathering tanning oil on her skin without any thought to how dangerous it was in only that way that women in 1975 did. She had a Vogue opened next to her and was looking at all the sparkly new clothes. It was labor day and she loved the September issue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His dad wanted his son to be a big boy, go into the waves. Fearless. He had remembered vaguely what they had told him during basic training six years— a million in Bud’s memory— prior. Fear makes you weak. Fear gets you dead. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pushed his son until he finally did it. At first it was fun, Jason found. The water was cold and the sand would slide between his toes. It was fun until the riptide had clawed at him and he could barely breathe. He sputtered and panicked, thinking he would never be safe. He remembered delicate arms grabbing him and rushing him back to his mother’s blanket. His mother clutched him, frantic with worry. She smoothed the hair from his face and kept telling him he was okay now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop fussing over him Valerie. He got caught in the riptide. It wasn’t a big deal.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s scared Bud! I told you. You can’t push him like that all the time.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jesus, you’re gonna turn him into a mama’s boy.” She glared at him. He grabbed a Lonestar from the cooler and he wandered off looking for a bottle opener.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ve got you baby,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve got you.” </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>“I’ll um, go now. I’m sorry I came here unannounced.” Bud headed for the door.</p><p>“It’s okay.” Bud took his wallet out and put the money his son had given him away. He didn’t like taking it but the empty cupboards in his room prevented him from being a better man about it. He toyed with the picture inside and decided to hand it to him. “It wasn’t all bad,” he told his son wistfully. “We played baseball a couple of times.” JD stared at an image of himself and his dad smiling in front of a house in Texas with mits in their hands. He was on his dad’s shoulders and they looked happy. Gently, he took the picture between his fingers.</p>
<hr/><p><b>Galveston, Texas<br/>
</b> <b>April, 1977</b></p><p>
  <em> “Right here!” He told his son. “Jason! Toss it right here.” Jason was only five but he was tall and strong for his age. His dad was about a few feet away from him and he tossed it right into the center of the mit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whew!” His dad called, taking his hand out of the glove and pretending like the fastball a five year old threw at him was really going all that fast. “Great arm kid!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Come on you two,” his mom had called from the sidelines, watching happily. “Get together. I wanna get a picture.” His dad lifted him up on his shoulders with his mit on. Smiling Valerie snapped a picture of them. She laughed and told them she had sandwiches out for lunch and he rushed in to get them as his father trailed behind him. Quietly and gently he grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a light kiss. She smiled at him, in that sweet way of hers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That had been a good day for all three of them. They didn’t have many, and often they were overshadowed, but they had a few like that. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p><b>April, 2005<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>The memory came back to him strangely. Carefully he took the picture and put it in the corner of the frame of the one of him and his mom. He considered both photos. Both of them were representatives of the best of times with his parents. Isn’t that what photographs were? Representations of the best of times? Who takes family photos of the fights? Of the trauma? He turned to his dad as he was about to leave. “Why did you pay the bill?”</p><p>“Sorry?” </p><p>“That doctor I saw. Dr. Beckett. He was a good guy. Helped me more than you could know. I know you spoke to him before you left Ohio and you sent him a check for the bill. I’ve always wondered. Why?” Bud Dean blinked. He shrugged.</p><p>“I’m your dad?” He responded. </p><p>“Really?” JD asked, unsure he could believe that.</p><p>“The things he said to me, the way he said it. I- I had no idea you-” He shook his head. “I promised your mother I’d always take care of you. That was… the only way I knew how to take care of you that could actually help you. I paid a bill.” He shrugged. A part of JD wanted to retort to that but he didn’t. “My phone number and the address where I’m staying is on the back of the picture.” On that note, his father walked out the door. JD was not at all sure if it was completely out of his life. He took the picture and flipped it over. Sure enough a phone number and address were on the back. He’d have to talk to Veronica about this. He knew she’d have an opinion. Or two.</p><p>A few minutes later he was at Rocky’s near the park at the table with Veronica. Valerie was asleep in the stroller. Veronica stared at him in wide-eyed curiosity as he sat down. </p><p>“So,” she pushed the cherry ice cream with jimmies she had taken the liberty of buying for him towards him. “What did he have to say?” She had a plate of french fries in the middle of the two of them half gone probably from her and Dylan munching. They were on the street side of Rocky’s, and sitting outside at the park with their ice cream and fries. He used to think it gross and weird that she’d dip her fries in the ice cream, but he had come to love all of her food ideosynchrisis just like she had his.</p><p>“He came to apologize.”</p><p>“Wow. Apologize.” They were quiet. JD took a fry and dipped it in his ice cream before popping it in his mouth. He enjoyed the fried salt mixed with sweet sensation.</p><p>“He’s in the program,” JD explained. Veronica closed her eyes and nodded.</p><p>“So, what? He took the personal inventory and now he’s apologizing for everything he did wrong under the influence?” She asked, surprised. It was scary how well they thought together.</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“And?” She asked. “Did you accept his apology?” She nibbled on the fry carefully. She wasn’t sure how her husband was taking this all.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t forgive him, if that’s what you're asking. I listened. He- he was different. Maybe he’s really committed. ‘Keep coming back. It works if you work it.’ That’s what they say, right?”</p><p>“For now at least.” She knew him well. She knew it had always been hard for JD to stop wishing his dad had been the dad he deserved, the one who he had become. “He didn’t remember the last time,” he kept his voice low. Dylan was at the other table chatting with a friend from the neighborhood but still. It wasn’t a topic they felt their nine year old mature enough to handle yet.</p><p>“That’s not surprising. He was shit-faced. Did you tell him what happened then?”<br/>
<br/>
“All of it.”</p><p>“Wow. And what did he say to that?”<br/>
<br/>
“He was sorry. To you as well.” She swallowed a bite of food and made a gesture to imply that she didn’t know what to think either. Fifteen years had passed since that awful day. Sometimes she had nightmares of him pulling the trigger. Sometimes in her dream she saw the scene from outside her body, like a movie. He would kill his father, her, then himself. It troubled her, and she should tell him but she never had the courage. She would tonight, after the kids were asleep.<br/>
<br/>
“Does he want to meet the kids?” She had learned that to people of a certain age the lure of grandbabies did strange lustful things to them. He nodded. “I don’t want him alone with our kids,” she said firmly.</p><p>“Oh god, do you think I want that either?”</p><p>“No, sorry. I know that.”</p><p>“I told him… I told him that when he gets his one year chip we’ll talk about maybe letting them meet him. I emphasized maybe. And that I’d talk to you first.”</p><p>“Do you think he deserves that? Grandkids after being such a shit dad?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, he doesn’t Veronica. He deserved me slamming the door in his face.” He looked down at his sleeping toddler in her stroller and carefully plucked a black curl away from her head. The three of them were the most precious things in the world to him. The idea of doing to them what his father had done to him-</p><p>It was unthinkable. But still. At the end of the day he was still the same kid who made sure there was an aspirin and a seltzer on hand for his hangovers. The one that made sure the electricity bill was always paid. Even when his anger in his gut burned at the man, he still did it. Years of therapy and he still couldn’t shake the feeling. “Veronica, I can’t explain-” She touched his hand, understanding. She always understood him and his fucked up relationship to his father.</p><p>“You can make this decision about whether or not you want him in your life, he’s your father. But in regards to our children..” Veronica thought hard. <em> No one is broken beyond repair. </em>“When it comes to our children, if he can get his one year chip then we can think about it,” she agreed.</p><p>“Oh, I also, um, gave him fifty bucks,” he admitted. She eyed him. “Sorry, I wasn't thinking. He looked like he hadn’t eaten anything real in a while.” </p><p>“He never deserved you for a son,” she whispered. He shrugged. “You took way too good of care of him. He should have been taking care of you.” He shrugged again. He’d been through it with his shrink and he knew that on an intellectual level.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking lately about how I was Dylan’s age when- when my mom- when she killed herself,” he said quietly, knowing that an outdoor cafe in the afternoon may not have been the ideal location for a conversation like this. They hadn’t explained properly to their kids yet what happened to their grandma, even though Dylan was old enough to notice the pictures in their home as well as in Aunt Phyll’s. They would one day, but nine and three wasn’t the time.</p><p>“I know,” she said, absently eating the fries. She’d thought about it too.</p><p>“I look at him and I can’t- I can’t even imagine him going through that. Any of it.” Veronica nodded. “I’m so glad he has us and that we’d-” Her heart was full, just thinking about it.<br/>
<br/>
“I know. He’s a good kid. And you’re a good husband, and a great dad.” She got momentarily distracted by her first born giggling at the water fountain with his friend he’d been playing with. She snapped immediately into mom mode on a dime. “Dylan William Dean! You put that down right now young man! You think I can’t see you? I can see you!” She dead-eyed her son as he and his buddy were at the water fountain filling up water balloons. He had been throwing them from their apartment window scaring strangers and she was livid about it. <em> Water balloons! Seriously?! </em></p><p>“Aw, come on. We’re just having fun! Dad, tell her!” Their son whined.</p><p>“Listen to your mother!” He replied exasperated that he had to tell him that. Again. He stomped and threw the balloons away. Valerie woke up fussy. That wrapped up their late afternoon excursion for ice cream and fries and reminded Veronica and JD why their kids didn’t deserve fun treats like ice cream and fries on a random Saturday afternoon most of the time.</p><p>That night the kids had been rowdy, but Dylan was good now at going to bed and staying there— even if sometimes the flashlight was on and he was reading comics, so long as he was in bed that was better than nothing— and Valerie finally went down at about 9. She was hard to put to sleep but once there, she slept through the night most nights. They were in their bed talking softly, worried any random word from them would end the spell and they’d have to go through the bedtime routine all over again but the night felt calm. Her head was on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. The night was cool, and they could stay warm just from the heat of their own bodies.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking. I think it’s a good idea to see your father again,” she told him, quietly. “I should practice what I preach, right? I always say at work that no one is incapable of change.” She thought of how many patients she worked with over the years since obtaining her license to practice. How many thought the damage they went through meant they were never going to be healthy? She resolved her professional credence and applied it to her personal life. “I think that means even him. If he’s sober like he says…” She considered it. “Give him a chance? See if he means it? I mean, I’m not saying be a walking mat, just use your instincts.”</p><p>“He asked me to go to a meeting with him,” he told her. “I didn’t say yes. But I didn’t say no either.” She nodded and glanced down and watched her fingers carefully trace patterns on his stomach. <em> He was in his thirties now </em> , Veronica realized. <em> This was JD in his thirties. With hair on his stomach and small dustings of gray on his head. </em></p><p>Another reminder to her that he had changed. In another life he had died at seventeen. Now he was lying with her in bed, with their two kids asleep in the next room, talking with her. If you had asked her in the before times if that had been possible…</p><p>Hell, what wasn’t possible? When she was twenty-two she had even buried the hatchet with Heather Chandler. They weren’t besties, but if they passed each other in Sherwood when they were visiting they smiled and nodded at each other.</p><p>Miracles <em> did </em>actually happen on occasions.</p><p>“Good. That’s the best place to start. In a therapeutic setting with a mediator between the two of you. Don’t see him alone again until we know for sure he’s committed to getting better.” JD agreed. “Sorry, I’m doing that thing,” she said. <em> Therapist mode, </em>he called it when she doled out advice like she were in a clinical setting.</p><p>“You get a pass on this one.” He turned the light off and they turned and went to sleep finally.</p><p>Bud did in fact get his one year chip. The incentive of grandchildren was probably the root of it, but whatever works, works sometimes. They celebrated with an introduction to his grandkids at a barbecue in the park. His Aunt even awkwardly came. In the end she put aside her own anger and put her nephew first. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t empathize with addiction recovery. </p><p>A new photo was placed with the others. JD’s dad and his grandkids in the park that day, a three year old on his lap and a 10 year old next to him. He had the biggest grin at the barbeque. He didn’t make it to the five year chip though.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>March, 2008<br/>
Queens, NY</b>
</p><p>Bud Dean passed away from liver disease at the age of 57. It wasn’t sudden, but it wasn’t lingering either, thankfully. Turns out a large reason for getting sober had been an attempt to get a few more years. Veronica and JD went to the funeral and she held his hand tightly as he buried his father. There weren’t a lot of people there. Veronica’s mother and father came for emotional support— they had ended up being more parental to JD over the years than his dad had ever— some guys who served in the army with him, and even Aunt Phyll came. She said she needed to make her peace with him for his part in her sister’s death and that she’d never find her own calm if she didn’t bury her anger and hate with him.</p><p>Veronica held him tight as he cried that night. He cried for his father who got help too late in life. He cried for his mother who never managed to get any of the help she needed. Finally, he cried for himself. He had to accept that he was 36 and an orphan, officially. </p><p>After that they were done with that part of their lives and moved forward.</p>
<hr/><p><b>June, 2015<br/>
</b> <b>Queens, NY</b></p><p>“Really?” Veronica giggled, almost like a teenager again, as she felt herself being prodded by her husband into another round. “A man of your age? Getting it up twice in one night?” She joked, impressed.</p><p>“Shut up, I’m not that old,” he teased her, his lips and teeth marking her soft neck. “I’m the same age as you, remember?” <em> Forty-three. They were in their forties now. Ugh. </em> His breath was warm as it played on her skin. He was like a vampire sucking on her neck like that. It felt terribly amazing but...</p><p>“Hmmm, yeah. And that’s too old to be covering up any hickies with a scarf or turtleneck. If you want to do that can you at least make sure it’s a little less noticeable?” She pleaded with him, nudging him downward. “I have a lecture to give tomorrow and I don’t want to give the undergrads a reason to snigger behind my back.”</p><p>“Fine,” he mumbled, putting his mouth on her tummy causing her to squirm and make pleasant noises beneath him. “Sh,” he teased quietly, “the kids’ll hear you. Don’t want to warp them more than we already have.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh they can’t possibly think their parents only had sex twice in order to make them, right?” He laughed into her skin as he went a little lower, burying his head between her thighs as they continued as quietly as they could, mindful of their teenage daughter and young adult son asleep in the other room.</p><p>An hour later JD was asleep next to her. Veronica sat up on her elbow, content but unable to sleep. Her eyes flickered over his body unabashedly still in lust with it. He was still handsome, even with the years of age on his face and body. She tried to remember what he looked like when they met at seventeen. It is strange when you spend so many years with a person, you don’t notice the change of their features, the lines that etch on their body as they grow older, but looking at the photographs of them at the beginning of their relationship she could.</p><p>He still had the same face— albeit less round with youth— and black hair— though many streaks of grey and white were starting to poke through. Of course, him being a man that just made him look distinguished and attractive. He was going to be a silver fox one day, she could tell. </p><p>And like many men his age he’d put on a smidge of weight, but not so much it made too much a difference. He’d always been wirey but he had never stopped running, though his knees and hips were starting to hurt him and years of his job began to make his wrists and fingers cramp and ache. He had a doctor’s appointment next week to take a look at it.</p><p>But of course it didn’t stop him from building the loft bed in his daughter’s room a few months ago so she could have a hideout and underneath was Lenny— the latest of their long line of hamsters and guinea pigs— in his mansion-like plexi and wood habitat she never failed to care for properly. She remembered fondly her husband teaching his daughter over the years the proper care and keeping of a hamsters and guinea pigs. She took the care as seriously— if not more so— than he had done his own buddies.</p><p>There was definitely more hair on his chest and stomach and the fuzz on his face was clear. She’d ask him not to shave for a few days, she rather liked him with a little fuzz on his face.  </p><p>She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, careful not to wake him. He always looked so sweet when he slept. She wondered what he thought of her own aging and body changing. Nothing disparaging she assumed as he still seemed to openly praise and love her body physically even if his two children had made their way out of it leaving their mark. She was aware of the gray strands in her own hair and the weight she had gained.</p><p>Twenty-one years nearly. And that’s just of their legal marriage, Twenty-five of it as a couple. People sometimes asked her— usually when they’d had enough dutch courage in them to make them bold— if she ever wished she’d dated other guys, played the field but…</p><p>...she didn’t. Through the good and the bad they were together. They were one and she had no regrets in that department. She didn’t love him like she did when she was seventeen, true enough. She loved him more and with more of a mature clarity that each passing day and year brought them. They had been true partners. That isn’t to say things were perfect. There had been fights. There had been terrible ones, ones that almost destroyed them. There had been hard losses— they lost her father to cancer last year and it was still a hard one on the whole family— but they were together. </p><p>Her nineteen year old son was asleep in his old bed snoring away. He was home on break from Harvard— yes, whilst she didn’t get into Harvard her smart as a whip son did— but it always felt right to have him home. She gently fixed his blanket over him. He’d have been annoyed if he’d caught her tucking him in at his age but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. Quietly she wandered into her daughter’s room— thirteen now and starting to get moody and rebellious god help them. She’d fallen asleep with headphones on and a book on her face. Carefully she picked it up— <em> Fight Club </em> checked out from the library— and put her bookmark on the page. She really was too much like her father. Lord help her if she found the old trench coat and boots in the back of the closet. </p><p>Veronica tried not to wake her as she gently took the headphones off and turned the music off, putting her phone away. She tucked her in as well. Val murmured in her sleep turning over in response. She’d be annoyed herself if she realized her mom was futzing over her like this but Veronica was in full mom mode and didn’t really care what the two of them thought about that. </p><p>She smiled, and turned on the turtle star shaped night light she hadn’t quite gotten rid of from when she was a toddler and closed the door. </p><p>Veronica’s mother had moved in across the hall in Phyll’s extra room after her father died. Partly to help Veronica and JD with the kids, but mostly because she wanted to be with her family. She was still adjusting to life without her husband. Being around her daughter and grandkids helped immensely with her coming to terms with it.</p><p>She was about to crawl back into her own bed when she noticed a woman was staring at the pictures on the table. Veronica’s pictures of her family, of her life— the one she was so proud of. Veronica wanted to scream in fright but she stood still, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn’t a stranger, after all. </p><p>She was family, albeit one of the deceased members. </p><p>“It’ll never go away,” she told Veronica as she picked up one of the older pictures on the picture table. The one of her and her son when he was eight with that toothless grin of his, and her arms around his small body laughing. “The desire to touch them, to mother them. Mine’s in his forties and I still want to do it.” She put it down and turned to Veronica.</p><p>She looked like she did in the photos, and in the hospital room she’d been in in another world, another time… Veronica looked down at her own hands and began to shake.</p><p>No. No. <em> No </em>.</p><p>“Is this it? Is this the part where you tell me it’s all over?” She gulped her worry down. “That I have to go back to the other world? The other life? The one without them?” Veronica’s lungs ceased to fill with air and she felt faint. She grabbed the couch for support.</p><p>“Oh no! No! Oh Jesus, I didn’t mean to- Fuck!” She said, realizing what this looked like. “No honey, no. You did what you were supposed to do. I just came to tell you that. That you did it. You made it all right.” She turned back to the photographs as the air returned to Veronica’s lungs. “It’s amazing isn’t it? How one change can affect so many others? You know what Heather Chandler’s doing?”</p><p>“I- no. I remember running into her after school once. We buried the hatchet so to speak. Heather Mac found out from her mother she came out as bi and moved in with a woman not too long after. I wasn’t too shocked, it made a lot of sense.” Veronica shrugged. “But that’s all. We’re not on Facebook together or anything.”</p><p>“Well, she went to law school and works for a bank now in Chicago. Her and her partner finally got married this year. They had a daughter. Her name’s Ashley. She gets good grades, plays soccer, and has slumber parties with all the girls in her class. Nice girl. Only two years younger than your youngest. That girl is here in this world because you made sure things went well for all of you. She smiles, dances, is nice to her peers. We’re not always like our parents, are we?” </p><p>“No, I guess not.”</p><p>“Even Kurt and Ram. They settled down, got married, got decent jobs. They didn’t cure cancer but…”</p><p>“They got to live,” Veronica supplied. Valerie Dean— the older one- nodded.</p><p>“Yeah. They lived.” She looked at all the photos. “So many lovely memories. Such a lovely life. I’m glad. So glad.” She picked up the photo of her son and his wife on their wedding day. She smiled, noticing the pearls. They looked lovely on her daughter-in-law.  “My husband gave me those the day I gave birth. He always thought it was the nicest gift he could have given me. It wasn’t. My baby was.” Veronica turned around and noticed her husband asleep in their room. When she turned back the apparition was gone. Veronica’s heart beat fast, unsure what had just happened.</p><p><em> You’re tired. Go to sleep. </em>Only, only the picture. Her wedding photo. She walked over to it, spooked, and picked it up. It had moved. She put it back in place lovingly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank whomever let this happen.”</p><p>She breathed out, resolved. She knew she’d have to explain this to JD now. It was the one thing about herself she had never told him. She had to explain… the miracle. Even if he thought she was lying. Even if he thought she made it up. She needed him to know. To try and make him understand. </p><p>They had been given a gift.</p><p>JD awoke and noticed the empty presence in their bed immediately. “Veronica?” He called, sleepily. Veronica turned and went back to her bed. “I’m freezing. Please come back in.” Suddenly the chill in her thin nightgown hit her all at once and she was cold as well. She crawled back in with her husband.</p><p>“Sorry, just checking on the kids.” He wrapped his arms around her and she shivered. “Gah, you are cold.” She cuddled herself into him under the blankets allowing her warmth to heat him up.</p><p>“It’s fine. I just had a nightmare, wanted to make sure you were near.” Veronica furrowed her brow and rolled over to face him.</p><p>“Nightmare? Tell me.” They decided long ago that if either of them suffered any kind of nightmare they immediately had to describe it to the other. It was the best way of confronting such things and not letting them linger. </p><p>He sighed. “I was… I wasn’t me though, not me in my 40s. I was seventeen. I was seventeen years old in that old trench coat and motorcycle boots of mine, like I was some hardcore rebel,” he scoffed.</p><p>“Hey, I fell in love with that teenage badass,” she reminded him. He touched her face, gently.</p><p>“I know. I just- it was the strangest feeling in it. The feeling that that was another place, not a dream.” He let out a ragged breath. “I was in a 7/11 and I had a Slurpee and I was looking at a monitor.” </p><p>“A 7/11?” She asked, feeling prickles all over her.</p><p>“Yeah. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve even been to one. I noticed they put one in near the train station and I started it had been a long time. Anyway. In the dream, I turned to me, the other me, the dream me. Gah, dreams are hard to explain. I was both the seventeen year old me and I was outside it all, watching. Me, me, I mean. The younger version turned to me and nodded. He took the Slurpee, sucked it up, put it down and just stared at me. Stared at me long and hard. That’s when he spoke, straight at me.”</p><p>“What did he say?” Veronica asked, the vague memory of being with him in that 7/11 all those years ago haunting her.</p><p>He shivered. “He said, ‘so you’re the lucky bastard that gets to keep her, huh? You have no idea how lucky of a bastard you really are.’” He rubbed his arms, cold.</p><p>Veronica looked at her husband. She looked at him hard. “JD, what if I told you in another life. In another world we- you and I- well, we-”</p><p>“What are you talking about? Veronica what is it?” He asked, sensing her unease. She breathed in and out deeply.</p><p>“What if in another timeline we didn’t get married. We didn’t have two beautiful kids. You didn’t grow up to build things. What if in another series of events the morning after I broke into your bedroom you and I went to Heather Chandler’s house?” He eyed her concerned. She wasn’t given to lying to him or flights of this kind of fancy. He could read her emotions at this point better than his own. </p><p>“Heather Chandler?” He asked, surprised. He hadn’t thought of that name in a long time. “Heather Chandler? The nasty queen of Westerberg High that gave those twits pills to drug you? Didn’t you bury the hatchet with her?” Veronica nodded.</p><p>“I did. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m trying to tell you. That all didn’t happen, not originally. The only reason she was able to do that— orchestrate the revenge on me— was because you and I never waltzed into her bedroom the morning after I hooked up with you. She wanted me to make her a prairie oyster. You joked about giving her liquid drainer. Even poured it into the cup. We didn’t mean to do it, or maybe we did, it’s all so confusing. But we gave it to her. She died.” He looked at her and nodded.</p><p>“We killed Heather Chandler?”</p><p>“Accidental homicide, yes but… yeah. That morning you remember us going to Denny’s? Originally we staged Heather Chandler’s death as a suicide. I forged the note even.” He nodded, listening.</p><p>“But I didn’t do that Veronica. You and I? We never did any of that. God, Veronica… the idea.” She knew. She knew too well.</p><p>“Yes, it gets worse. That put us on a path. A terrible one. We shot and killed Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeny after they lied and said I had a threeway with them. We were both so hurt and angry. <em> We </em> murdered them. I didn’t pull the trigger but I was right there beside you. I wrote the fake suicide note. That was me.”</p><p>He looked at her carefully. “Veronica? What? You could never- I could never-” He said, looking upset, trying to comprehend.</p><p>“We are. We are capable. Do you remember that day? That awful day at your dad’s? The one where you pointed a gun at him?”</p><p>“And was one bad impulse away from pulling the trigger?” He shook his head. “Yeah, vividly.” It took him a minute. It took him a solid minute to put himself back in that place. The angry and lonely teenager. The one that found a brightness— Veronica— but it wasn’t enough to curb it. Not totally. He remembered the cognitive dissonance as he saw his father’s claws on Veronica. </p><p>He’d been one bad move away from firing that gun and who the hell knows-</p><p>The point is he realized she was telling the truth. Killing Heather Chandler? Kurt Kelly? Ram Sweeny? That angry rebellious seventeen year old in all black and a trench coat could have done that. The one that had no one at home teaching him right from wrong?</p><p>“Veronica I don’t understand… where is all this coming from? My dream? Why are you telling me this?”</p><p>“Because it’s true. Because it’s true and I need to let you know and you need to believe me. I need—” Tears were in her eyes and instinctively he swept her up into his arms and held her tightly, patting her back and kissing the side of her head slowly. </p><p>“I believe you. Okay? Veronica, you want to tell me that in another life I could have gone down a different path? That I would have self-destructed and taken others down with me? I believe that. Definitely. I know that’s true.” He clung to her tightly. “Explain to me. Explain to me everything you are trying to say to me. Right now as logically as you can. I love you, and I know you wouldn’t make anything up to tell me. Not like this.”</p><p>She did. She told him everything more concisely. She told him about giving Heather Drain-O. About how Kurt and Ram humiliated them with a rumor she slept with them both one after the other. She told him about the prank, setting them up to meet them in the woods… and murdering them point blank. He nodded slowly at this.</p><p>Then she told him how she was understandably freaked and that he was scaring her too much and that she broke up with him. The color was escaping his face as she told him about him pounding on her door— having suffered a complete psychotic break, she understood these things better now as a therapist herself now— scaring her with news of a bomb he built. A petition. How he was going to blow the whole place up. He went white at that.</p><p>And then she told him the ending of the whole sad thing. She told him that she went after him and confronted him but unlike what she was able to do in their new timeline she couldn’t talk him off the ledge.</p><p>She shot him. She took the bomb, but at the last moment he limped over and made her give it to him. </p><p>
  <em> I’d trade my life for yours. </em>
</p><p>JD was quiet, trying to piece it all together after she was done telling him the whole truth. “That’s why you made the call? Why you insisted I speak with Dr. Beckett when we first met?” He asked quietly. “To keep me from…” He shivered. “To keep me from self-destructing…”</p><p>“You believe me?” She asked him, stunned. “You believe me that this happened? That somehow I was allowed to come back and drastically change both our lives? Not just ours but everyone around us?”</p><p>“Veronica, I’ve known you for more years now than I didn’t know you.” He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to comprehend it all. “You wouldn’t lie to me. This is your truth. I don’t- I don’t get it or understand-”</p><p>“I barely do either,” she told him, tears prickling her eyes.</p><p>“But the petition,” he said, shivering. “That- that was a fancy- a- god. It was something I remember thinking up before I met you. As a lark. A thought experiment. I never- I never thought I’d- I-” he swallowed quietly. “I never told <em> anyone </em>about my thoughts to do that. They scared even me.”</p><p>They stared at each other now, JD realizing there was something to everything she was saying.</p><p>The door opened, knocking them out of their stupor. “Hey, you guys okay?” The door slightly ajar, their son sleepily asked. “I woke up hearing you two talking. I thought I heard mom upset.”</p><p>Quickly Veronica recovered but allowed JD to answer. “We’re fine,” he told their son. “Just some upsetting dreams but-”</p><p>“Go back to bed sweetie,” Veronica said, switching into her calm voice. “It’s late and your grandma wants to take you to her card game tomorrow and show you off.” She chuckled trying to go back into her normal “mom” mode. “She likes showing you off to her card friends.”</p><p>He groaned. “Grandma’s canasta group, really?” He asked, forgetting the fret and going back to being a twenty year old boy who wanted to spend his break trolling around friend’s parties or get togethers for girls. </p><p>“Yes, just a quick cameo appearance. I promise. She loves bragging about her Harvard grandson.” He sighed. “I think her friend Alma will have her granddaughter Isabella there. You remember her, right?” He did. He did indeed. She had curly dark hair and was always up for some fun. Dylan was more than happy to have a chance to hang around with Isabella.</p><p>“Okay. Fine. But Dad, we're going to the Mets game the next day, right?” JD swallowed, trying to switch back into his normal “dad” mode.</p><p>“Yeah, got tickets for Saturday. Usual seats behind first base like we always do at Citi Field.”</p><p>“All right.” He sighed, still trying to figure out how his parents had gone from their normal selves that day to… his mother being upset and now doing that thing she always did where she wouldn’t let him know if things were upsetting her. “If everything’s okay..?”</p><p>“It is,” she reiterated. He closed the door and Veronica and JD breathed out. Quietly, so as not to disturb the kids, Veronica grabbed her robe and slippers and they made it out to the terrace. They stared out at their view which included a fairly decent one of Manhattan not that far away. The lights danced on the buildings as the skyline to the most beautiful city in the world was displayed in front of her.</p><p>Veronica shivered in the cold in only her nightgown. JD took her into his arms from behind upon seeing her cold as a reflex. He kissed her head as she looked out on the city and heard the nightly sounds of their neighbors around them.</p><p>She felt instantly warm. “I believe you Veronica. I believe what you are telling me. That dream or whatever it was. It felt… It felt familiar, like I’d been to that eerie 7/11 before. Like I’ve always been there. I don’t-”</p><p>Veronica didn’t respond, just felt his familiar and comforting embrace. They stood there for a few minutes taking it all in. Taking in the path that they had forged ahead despite what fate had handed them the first time.</p><p>“Veronica, I don’t really know what to say to all of this. It’s so much to understand. Why? Why did we get to do this? This other life I-” He sighed and held her close. “I only know this life. I only want to focus on us, now. Our lives. Our family.”</p><p>“I don’t know. We’ll never know. Why us? Why did the universe do it?” </p><p>“I don’t think the why matters,” he said. His resolve was clear. This would be something his mind would wander to occasionally, but he understood it best not to dwell on it.</p><p>
  <em> This. This is our life. I’d die to preserve it. My wife. My kids. This family’s love. </em>
</p><p>They were silent, comprehending as the cool night air blew around them and the sounds of the night drifted over them.</p><p>“But I do know this,” Veronica finally said. “The unknown future rolls toward us and we face it for the first time with a sense of hope…”</p><p>They were silent again for a moment, soaking the resolve in.</p><p>“Wasn’t that the last line of Terminator 2?” He asked, breaking the tension. She broke into a laugh, realizing it was.</p><p>“I think so.” The tension and fear went away and he laughed too. They both laughed for joy at the lives that were saved. At the family they were able to create and the joy they were able to carve out for themselves.</p><p>In the end it didn’t matter why. And they didn’t know if it would one day be gone. There wasn’t much they <em> could </em>do against cosmic forces to be fair.</p><p>But they both knew they’d lay down their lives to keep it. They’d fight for it to the ends of the earth.</p><p>So what else could they do? Well, they could embrace their family. Their friends. Veronica would call Martha in the morning. She was living in Cincinnati with her husband three daughters. Maybe conference call it with Heather Mac in DC and her son. They had a regular group text but it had been a while since they talked in person. Maybe they should plan a get together just the three of them and no kids in Florida or something. </p><p>Maybe even go for broke. Tell JD to call Jeff and Kyle and have an informal reunion of sorts. It had been awhile since all of them were in the same room together. That would be nice. A nice proper get back together. They’d figure something out within all their budgets and schedules. </p><p>She felt her husband's warm and comforting embrace and closed her eyes and felt a warm breeze on her face. She didn’t know who she was talking to but she hoped whomever was responsible could hear. “Thank you.” </p><p>She thought of just how much she had changed and how she had made so many lives better. She thought of how much different JD was and how both of them had become much better versions of themselves. They weren’t perfect, but they were no longer damaged beyond repair.</p><p>They had scars. They had to stitch each other up on occasions. And they weren’t without struggle like all human beings, but… they were fundamentally better than they had once been.</p><p>Mostly she remembered the feeling of him breaking down in her arms, telling her he was never going to touch a gun again, that moment of the world shifted around her, like it was righting a huge wrong. She addressed JD. </p><p>“Every day after this is a gift,” she added, still quoting Terminator. “Let’s use it well.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew! I decided on the Terminator 2 ending, but I honest to god wrote the Titanic ending first but I cried my ever loving eyes out and just couldn't leave you on that ending. T2 James Cameron seems to fit more than Titanic Cameron. Cameron either way, lol. </p><p>Seriously, again, a warm thank you to every comment, kudo, and hit I got on this story. I really can't thank you all enough for pushing me to not let this story float away. I loved doing it. It really got my groove back,</p><p>BONUS CONTEST: I rose to a challenge once put in front of me. I managed to make sure everything in Seventeen was referenced to in this story, except for one thing. Name me the one thing-- and the first to do so-- and they get a prize. Possibly a short one shot of their prompting. </p><p>Kudos and comments are always welcome. This isn't the end, oh no sir. I've still got some sequels in the works and so long as ideas pop into my head I'll write stuff in this AU of sorts. Either flashbacks or flash forwards. And there's definitely a summer after graduation sequel with the conclusion of Heather Duke where they work at summer camp.</p>
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